


Les Chats du Guerre

by weaving_a_tale



Series: The Further Adventures of Samuel Drake [2]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Sequel to So I'm Your Tech Support, like the reader I finally get to put my masters degree to good use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaving_a_tale/pseuds/weaving_a_tale
Summary: Two years have passed since the discovery of the treasure of Victoria Cassandra de Victoire, and Sam Drake once again finds himself in need of assistance from a certain former Masters student. But as he is finding out, much has changed in that period for the both of them....and not all of it might be as anticipated. 
[Sam Drake x Reader, significant age difference]





	1. Discoveries in Egypt

There were certain perks to his brother's reputation, though Nathan Drake has been given fifteen extra years to build it.

And here was Samuel Drake, trying to build one just as notable in three.

To be fair, he was putting in a solid effort. And unlike his brother, he did have more than a few coins to remember his adventures by.

If Nathan Drake had been the one to discover ancient cities and subsequently lose their treasures, Samuel Drake was building the reputation of having more than stories to his name.

It was certainly better for Sullivan's business, anyways. Though Sam wished they could do without the sleazy clients who wanted all of the rewards and none of the effort to find them.

They paid well though, and some were actually decent enough to let him keep one or two souvenirs.

If he took a little more than he was supposed to, then hey, that was his own business. What the clients didn't know, couldn't hurt them.

It was while he had been searching for the clue for his latest venture in Egypt that he found a worn journal poking out of the sand.

The latest sandstorm had dislodged it apparently, and at first glance its contents did not appear that intriguing.

It was one of many journals soldiers had made during the First World War, filled to the brim with hopes and dreams as well as army babble.

What caught his attention and held onto it, was one particular entry concerning the war in France.

The soldier spoke of a brother, who had recounted with some amusement that the battlefield was scattered with pigeons and dogs who transported cheap as well as expensive goods that the soldiers could not easily acquire.

Goods that appeared to include expensive jewelry and golden pieces, sold and transported to the highest bidders.

And that was all he could find on the matter. No other journals, no letters, even the historical record did not think it existed.

The client had received the treasure they wanted, Sam paid in full, and Sam knew he should leave the journal alone.

He'd already been lucky twice, finding treasure of a eighteenth century trading network in Newfoundland and the wealth of an explorer from the 1600s in the depths of the Ottoman Empire.

There had been leads in those cases, not to mention a certain woman on his side that knew the time periods like the back of her hand.

He had no leads, and definitely no one who knew the time period. Not many explorers were interested in the First World War unless it linked to something ancient, his brother included.

So he reached out to the historians. To Abigail Victor in particular.

To the shock of everyone including Abbie, she had settled for a life of monotony. Once she had gotten her head on straight, she'd gone back and earned her PhD, getting a professorship within a year.

She had a husband and twins now, he believed. Funny what could happen in the span of two years.

Funny how he had remained just the same in that time frame.

She had sounded more amused that he had contacted her than anything else, gently reminding him that she worked with historians that knew the seventeenth to eighteenth centuries, not the twentieth.

"You know, you could reach out to your competition. Though that will mean they'll get a cut of whatever you find," Abbie reminded him. "Have you spoken to Adam Charles and his team?"

"You mean the guys that screwed me out of the Edinburgh job? Yeah, that's not happening," Sam retorted as he glanced at a golden necklace hanging in the display case in his office.

"They didn't screw you out of the job, they just outbid you," Abbie reminded him.

He slid out from his chair, approaching the necklace and looking at it closely.

"Connor Williams?" Abbie offered as he opened the case, gingerly pulling down the necklace and inspecting it.

Sam made a sound at the base of his throat in disagreement.

Eighteenth century, clearly a duchess' jewelry. Belonged to Victoria Cassandra de Victoire, given by Olaf Wallenberg.

Soft lips against his chapped ones, her mouth surprisingly sweet as she rested her hand on the nape of his neck. Pulling away just as he began to absorb what was happening, beginning to lean into it.

He'd stumbled through that expedition in more ways than one.

"What about Anton Antiquities?" Abbie offered, jolting Sam out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?" He asked, placing the necklace back in its case.

"Anton Antiquities. Small firm, supposed to have some of the best explorers and historical consultants. They might even rival the great Nathan and Samuel Drake's skills."

"Abbie?" Sam asked, closing the door of the case. "Whatever happened to that grad student, shit what was her name..."

"Oh, don't act like you don't remember," Abbie retorted teasingly. "Kind of hard to forget the woman who was able to steal something from you and get away with it."

Sam chuckled at that, leaning against his desk.

"Couldn't tell you where she is," Abbie continued. "We haven't been in touch for the past two years. Why?"

"Didn't she specialize in the First World War?"

"You could always Google her, see what she's been up to," Abbie retorted, Sam nodding before he began to search.

There wasn't much other than brief mentions of her donations to various museums across Canada as well as across the globe, and Sam frowned.

No way to contact her. Even her Facebook was blocked off from him. He laughed at the fact her display picture was of her dog.

"Find anything?" Abbie asked, and Sam made a sound of disagreement. "Well, from what I've heard Marie Anton's people are quite good. I'm sure they'll have someone willing to help you if you need it."

"Sure, I'll look into it," Sam replied, realizing in that moment he'd almost been...hoping, that he could speak to [Y/N] again. Convince her to help him.

They actually had worked well together, despite the whole awkward "love" thing that happened at the end.

And a lot could change in two years.

But he supposed that reunion could be put off for a little longer. At least until he finished this expedition.

"What's the contact info for Anton Antiquities?" Sam asked, writing down the address when Abbie gave it to him.

Well. Looked like he was going to Canada again.

\------------------------////----------------------

It seemed like the only people Marie Anton employed were thirty and under, two people rushing past Sam as he opened the door.

The main office was a lot nicer than what Sam and Sully had, though it was hard to upkeep considering how often they weren't in it.

There was a reception area and everything, Sam standing out in his simple shirt and jeans as he sank slightly into the expensive sofa.

"Ms. Anton will only be a few minutes, she's with another client," the receptionist told him with a polite smile.

"What do you MEAN you're not interested?" Sam heard a man yell before he busted through the door, a woman that displayed elegance with every movement on his heels. "I'M the one paying YOU to do this for me."

"Mr. Harris, there are limits to what we can do," the woman replied calmly, a French Canadian accent tinting every word. "I am sure there are other...."

"You're damn right there are OTHER places I could go to!" The man barked before he snatched a folder from her hands, storming off.

The woman muttered something in French before she looked at Sam and smiled politely.

"You must be my 11 o'clock. Follow me," she declared, opening the door for him. "Sorry, we're in the middle of a few cases at the moment so it's a bit...hectic."

Hectic was a kind term for it, people appearing to run around from every direction carrying papers and maps.

Marie directed him towards an office in the back, the blinds already drawn. She motioned for him to take a seat before she slipped behind her desk, sitting down across from him.

"So, how may I help the infamous Samuel Drake?" She asked with a smile.

"I was hoping I could borrow one of your historical consultants," he retorted, her eyebrows raising.

"Borrow? Does that mean you intend to give them back? And not try to steal them from my company?" She asked lightly, Sam putting his hands up defensively.

"To be fair we didn't know he was yours," Sam retorted, causing her to grin.

"I hope you're aware if you use my services, there will be the expectation we get a portion of whatever you find," she declared, and he nodded. "Perfect. So, which era are you going to traipse through now?"

"World War One," he retorted, her eyebrows arching in surprise.

"Oh?" She asked in interest.

"There was supposed to be a transport network that used animals for trading goods in the trenches," Sam declared.

"And you think that there was more being passed around than cigarettes?" She replied, causing him to nod in agreement. "And there's no way you can find this on your own?"

"There's no trail," Sam replied as he scratched his chin.

"I can see why you came to me then," Marie retorted proudly, standing up. "You're in luck, our consultant on the World Wars just came back from Stockholm a few days ago. You can discuss the details with her, and then we can consider if your case is worth our time."

She slipped out of the room, and Sam was surprised about how nervous he felt.

He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as he sat in the neat office, his eyes glancing over the photos on her desk.

He frowned as he recognized a familiar mass of black hair and a wide grin, the man wrapping his arm around the woman.

So she knew Clarke Baker. Couldn't say he was surprised. He seemed like the type to associate with expensive treasure hunters.

Sam wondered if this was the company he used back in Newfoundland when he heard the door close behind him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting sir, I was helping another researcher with a map. So, how can I help..." a feminine voice began before they stopped. "Sam?"

He frowned at the familiarity of the voice, turning around automatically.

It was the second time Sam found himself rendered speechless, and the fact it was by the same woman made him all the more stunned.

It was [Y/N] alright, except it....wasn't. Her hair had been cropped short and awkward lumps had given way to smooth, glorious curves. She was sporting a wide grin that was familiar and yet at the same time...there was a confidence to it that hadn't been there before.

He stood up automatically, his eyes widening as he took her in fully.

"Holy shit," he breathed, heart thudding in his ears. Christ.

She took that to be his shock at them seeing each other again, chuckling.

She pulled him into a hug, her arms wrapped around his neck causing him to breathe the scent of flowers and something he couldn't identify.

"Well it's nice to know you haven't gotten yourself killed yet," she murmured as she released him, grinning.

"L-likewise," he retorted, drinking her in again and she cocked an eyebrow.

"You okay Sam? You look like you're in shock," she murmured with a frown.

"That's one word for it," he replied. "You've....changed."

"That a compliment or an insult?" She retorted with a grin, and Christ she hadn't always been this attractive had she?

"Compliment. Very, very much a compliment," he replied softly, and she laughed.

"Well some of us can change in the span of two years," she retorted as she sat down in Marie's chair. "Though it's nice to see some things remain the same."

She didn't elaborate, though he swore she saw her smile dim a little and a look come across her features that looked almost...pained. Before he could ask she had pasted on the grin again.

"So Marie says you want my help with your case?" She declared before she shook her head. "Sorry. Expedition. Used to talking with clients, not fellow treasure hunters."

"Fellow treasure hunters?" Sam asked with a smirk, sitting down across from her. "Thought you were done with this sort of thing."

"So did I," she retorted with a laugh. "Turns out I like it. Not every aspect of it, but overall? Could do worse for my job."

Sam pulled out the journal, the page of interest marked off.

"Found this in Egypt, it mentions some trading network in France that used animals," Sam explained as she looked at the words. "You wouldn't..."

"Les Chats du Guerre," she breathed before she looked up from the journal, her eyes shining. "I can't believe you actually found this..."

"So you know about it?" He teased, and her cheeks flooded with colour. For a moment he was reminded of the girl from two years ago and a smile blossomed on his lips.

"Sorry. It's just....I mean I was never able to include them in my dissertation because there wasn't much historical evidence of their existence," she rambled eagerly. "But they were FASCINATING, Sam. Three girls, two sisters and a cousin, managing a trading network using hijacked messenger pigeons and dogs....all from a bordello close to the front lines."

"So you're in, then?" Sam asked as he leaned forward, meeting her eyes.

She grinned, leaning back slightly and crossing her arms.

"For the right price," she declared as she cocked an eyebrow.

His eyebrows furrowed as he searched her features for any sincerity, his stomach sinking until she winked.

"Kidding, Sam," she murmured. "Course I'm in. Been interested in all this before I'd even heard the name Samuel Drake."

Sam had to admit....he was liking this new version of her.

"So where's Sully?" She asked as she looked through the pages of the journal.

"He's not coming," Sam retorted, causing her to look up at him in surprise. "He's taking a break from all this, says he deserves it after all these years."

"Based on what I've heard from Marie? Wouldn't blame him," [Y/N] retorted with a giggle. "So...it would be just you and me then?"

"Would that be a problem?" Sam asked with a grin, and hers faltered for a moment.

"Only if it's an issue for you," she retorted with a smile. "So where are we headed first?"

Sam scratched the nape of his neck before he gave her an awkward chuckle.

"Well....," he began, meeting her eyes and grinning sheepishly. "I was kinda hoping you could help me figure that out."


	2. Priorities Differ

Sam had to admit....there were certain benefits to working with Anton Antiquities.

He eyed the stewardess appreciatively, taking a sip from aged scotch as he lounged back in his seat in first class.

He was sticking out like a sore thumb, and he could give less of a damn. Though he could do without the awkward stares at his frayed jacket and jeans, shoes caked with dried mud currently on the footrest.

[Y/N] appeared to be working diligently on her laptop, barely looking at him as she took a sip from her orange juice, glasses perched on the edge of her nose.

He faintly heard a song beginning to play through her headphones, and he sung it under his breath as he looked through the information [Y/N] had given him to read.

"I made it through the wilderness....somehow I made it through...." Sam sang, chuckling to himself. "Didn't know how lost I was until I found you...."

He could remember singing it under the window of some girl with scarlet hair and a beautiful grin, the other two boys bold enough to risk sneaking out of St. Francis stumbling through the accompaniment as he did his best to impress her with her favourite song.

He wondered how Crystal was doing these days. Probably married and with kids, he imagined. Having a semblance of a normal life.

He glanced over at [Y/N], biting her nails as her eyes scanned over the screen.

Who needed normality when you got views as lovely as this?

Her eyes left the screen and met his, her hand leaving her mouth as she gave him a small smile before she pushed her glasses up her nose and went back to work.

"You ever stop working?" Sam asked her with a chuckle, and when she didn't respond he nudged her leg with his foot.

She looked up at him, clearly startled as she pulled off her headphones, quickly pausing the song.

"What?"

"You ever stop working?" Sam repeated as he leaned forward, setting his papers off to the side.

"You ever start?" She countered. "Have you even glanced over what I gave you?"

He feigned horror, his hand over his heart.

"You wound me," he retorted, her response to raise her eyebrows. "Skimmed them."

He slid forward in the seat a little, his elbows set on his knees as he met her eyes.

"But it's not like we're racing to beat some other treasure hunters wanting the long lost treasure of...." Sam began with a grin before he faltered. "Uhhh...."

"Skimmed them well I take it?" She teased, and he didn't respond. "Emilie, Marie and their cousin Joan."

"The two hookers and a thief," Sam replied with some amusement, and [Y/N] sighed though there was a laugh on her lips that made Sam grin a little wider.

"I think the term is...." she replied before she stopped, glancing over her notes.

"Whores. The term you're looking for is whores," Sam declared, causing a few of the other people in first class to give him odd looks. "Sorry sweetheart, there's no way around it."

"You've clearly mastered the fine art of subtlety," she replied with a smirk, leaning forward. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"You have that little faith in me?" Sam retorted as he mirrored her movements, and she laughed a little.

"Based on my experience? I think I have every right to," she retorted as she met his eyes. "Not to mention what I've heard."

"All good things I assume?" Sam replied with a smirk, and she grinned.

"As charming as Nathan Drake and twice as reckless," she declared, Sam grinning in response.

"Where do you think he learned it from?" he retorted as he waggled his eyebrows, causing her to shake her head.

"God help the woman that falls in love with you Sam Drake. You're gonna drive her up the wall," [Y/N] declared with a chuckle, slipping back on her earphones as she leaned back.

"You know that from experience?" Sam asked with a grin, her response to go back to her notes as her music played.

His smile faded, and when she didn't speak after a few minutes he sighed.

Guess now was as good a time as any to look over whatever she had given him.

He swore he felt her eyes on him once he began to read, though when his eyes tried to meet hers she was already looking away.

\---------------------///----------------------------

You'd noticed, of course. The lingering glances, the charming grins, the constant barrage of flirtation.

He was reacting two years too late to what you had felt as a naive twenty-three year old, and you wondered why God had such a cruel sense of humour.

You weren't romantic enough, not anymore to believe that it had been your charming personality and wit that had changed his opinion.

The transformation had been so gradual that you had not noticed anything was different about you until one day you looked in the mirror and saw a completely different person.

The weight you'd been carrying around all these years had slipped away in the midst of hunting down artifacts and data, and the hesitance you had in yourself had grown into confidence with every successful job.

You knew you weren't the same person as two years ago, but Sam made it seem like you hadn't existed to him until now.

You weren't going to lie. You kinda hated him for it. For being just as shallow as you feared, acting as if you were any other woman he could take to bed.

The man leapt from woman to woman as fast as he appeared to take on jobs, and you didn't want to be one of those 'Drake girls', the ones that got tossed aside when everything was said and done.

Besides, Sully had been right. There was no room for romance and all that on the job. You'd seen the damage it could do when you worked with other people in the agency. It caused people to leave due to the unbearable nature of working with someone who you once shared everything, from yourself to the job, with and who now wanted to share it with someone else.

It was part of the reason you tended to work alone.

Though this time the client had come with you rather than staying behind in a cushy office waiting for you to do all the work.

Nice change, actually.

You just wished there wasn't any of that lingering history there.

You never should have kissed him, told him you loved him back then. Because now that hung between you, and made it very, very hard to be professional.

Especially considering you no longer felt that way about him.

You shook your head at yourself as he slept on the plane, electing to focus on all this later.

You had a job to do after all.

And what a job it was.

From what you could gather from the limited resources you had, it had been a smuggling ring, using dogs and other messengers to transport goods across enemy as well as allied lines.

The girls had played both sides it seemed, and it wasn't unknown for the girls to keep one or two trinkets for themselves.

So you were essentially looking for a treasure horde in France, which might have already been sold off to pay for a life after the First World War.

You wished your jobs with Sam didn't always include this amount of uncertainty.

The stack of papers you had given Sam to glance over concerning what type of goods they had usually smuggled lay between the armrest and the seat, crumpled as he slept.

You tentatively rose in your seat, walking towards him before you slid out the papers, tucking them under your arm.

You glanced him over and made a mental note to get him some cleaner clothes. You'd need them in case you had to hobnob to get any information.

You'd probably leave the charming to Sam, though. He seemed to have a knack for it.

He'd convinced you that you were hopelessly in love with him, didn't he?

You sighed to yourself before you went back to your seat, deciding maybe it would be best to get some sleep too before you landed in Paris.

You knew you wouldn't be competing with other treasure hunters to claim the goods of "les Chats", meaning there was no urgency.

Didn't mean you wanted to meander in this case though.

Whether it was for professional or personal reasons you didn't dwell on.


	3. Luck On Our Side

What information you had been able to gather appeared to lead to a cafe in Paris, which had belonged to a woman by the name of Georgina Addams.

Though Sam appeared to be more interested in charming the current owner rather than gathering necessary information, a charming grin already on his features as soon as his eyes rested on the lean brunette.

You were somewhat thankful she did not return said flirtations, appearing more amused with Sam than anything else as she explained how the bordello had been torn down after the First World War.

What information she did not have on the bordello itself she compensated for by having plentiful information on its madam, a woman that appeared to achieve cult status in this region.

She had been a modern Robin Hood of sorts, taking money from wealthy soldiers who desired a night with one of her girls and using it to get food and supplies to those in Paris that could no longer afford to feed themselves during the war.

She kept some of it for herself, though, naturally. Used it to improve the bordello, the owner pulling down a letter framed on the wall she had bought in an auction a few years back.

"It is a festival of light and sound, a welcome escape from what we are expected to endure in this conflict. If I could spend the rest of the war in this place in the arms of the Dove I would be a happy man," Sam read out before he chuckled a little. "So who was the Dove?"

The woman only shrugged and you frowned a little.

"If you are truly interested in researching the history of the bordello, there is an amateur historian who lives near the Louvre. Has spent most of his life gathering clues on it due to his own personal connections," the owner explained.

"Personal connections?" You asked in interest, and she smiled a little.

"He believes his birth mother was one of the prostitutes who worked here, though it has never been proven," the woman explained with a shrug. "Addams was known for her secrecy. All of the women wore masks and were given the names of creatures, though it has never been clear as to why."

"Perhaps she wanted to give the women a chance to live a normal life once the war was over," you murmured.

"So what's the address for the historian?" Sam asked, and she wrote it down on a slip of paper along with a phone number before she gave it to him with a polite smile.

"He will not be in until the evening, though. He works in a bank somewhere deep within the city, and you can leave a message with his assistant if you desire to meet with him."

Which was how the pair of you had ended up sitting outside a small cafe, Sam admiring the scenery as you spoke in halting French with the banker's assistant to set up a time.

Your hope of meeting with the man sooner rather than later crumbled before your eyes as you were politely informed that the banker would be away until the middle of next week, and even that was tentative.

You were growing more and more frustrated as you tried to explain the need for a more specific time, and you did not realize how visibly you were showing it until you felt a calloused hand rest on yours.

Despite the roughness of his fingertips the movement of his thumb over the top of your hand was surprisingly gentle, giving your hand a small squeeze as he gave you a small smile.

You gave him a small smile in return as you removed your hand, setting it in your lap and his smile transformed to a frown of what appeared to be disappointment.

You hung up with a long sigh, taking a sip of your tea as you rested your forehead on your hand.

"So it seems like we're stuck here for a few days," you muttered, and Sam chuckled before he sipped his coffee.

"You make it sound like we're trapped in the Bastille," Sam teased, and you sighed. "Like I said on the plane. No rush. No one chasing us or hunting for the treasure."

He leaned back a little.

"Besides, I can think of worse fates then spending a few days in Paris with a beautiful woman," Sam continued with a grin.

"Oh really? You flew her over here?" You asked as you glanced at what the owner of the cafe could give you, however scant. "Seems like a waste of resources, but hey, if it keeps you happy I'm happy."

"She's worth it, trust me," he retorted. "Beautiful and intelligent. Could think of worse people to trot the globe beside. Actually, worked with a few of them."

You shook your head and smiled a little, setting down the information as you met his eyes.

"That's unfortunate," you retorted, sipping your tea before you looked across the street to see a couple hand-in-hand, looking at each other adoringly. This place was really the City of Love, wasn't it?

"Yeah, well, not all of us can be so selective in our clientele," Sam countered with a smirk.

"That's Marie, not me," you retorted. "I just take who she gives me."

"So...any horror stories?" Sam asked with a grin, and you chuckled.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," you replied as you rested your chin in your hands, and he leaned forward.

"Seven words: Baroque sheet music, will pay top dollar," Sam retorted with a chuckle. "Nearly refused to pay us when we could only get him half a sheet. Said we didn't try hard enough."

"I can beat that," you replied with a smirk. "Okay, so there's this necklace I'm supposed to get, right? It's this beautiful piece from the 19th century, belonged to the granddaughter of minor royalty...."

You began to chuckle, somehow able to keep it together as you continued.

"So I've spent months searching for this damn thing, and you know what the prick does?" You asked with a grin. "He takes the necklace...and smashes it against the wall."

You were giggling now, and you noticed Sam watching you with a small grin.

"Starts ranting about how this minor royal ruined his family, this was his family's revenge, now he can live in peace...and I'm just standing there wondering if I'll lose my job if I just punch him."

"Please tell me you did," Sam declared with a chuckle.

"Christ I wish I had. Nah, he walked away with everything intact, sans a necklace," you retorted, and when you met Sam's eyes again his grin caused you to smile a little wider.

"Alright alright, I know when to accept defeat," Sam replied as he put his hands up.

You chuckled, finishing off your tea and you wondered if the warmth blossoming in your chest was from that or the man sitting across from you.

"Consider yourself lucky you didn't have to work with him," you murmured before you laughed. "You probably WOULD have just socked him in the jaw."

"I hope I'm not that predictable," Sam countered.

"You would have though."

Sam finished off his coffee, setting it down on the table before he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

"Yeah, probably," he retorted with a shrug, and you smiled. "So...we have a few days in Paris, and no plans. Any suggestions?"

There was a certain purr to the last two words that made you tense, and whatever warmth had been there evaporated.

"Look at what we have until we can meet with this historian," you retorted, a bit cooler than before. "Which means actually looking at what I gave you back on the plane."

You set down some money for the cafe before you stood up, already checking your cell phone for the address of the hotel you would be staying at.

"All work, no play makes you a dull girl," Sam declared, and you rolled your eyes.

"Better than being reckless," you retorted.

"That supposed to be a jab at me?" Sam asked with a smirk, and you shrugged, causing him to frown. "You alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah just....sorry it's been a bit of a long day and I think I need to get myself some rest," you murmured apologetically, despite the fact he didn't deserve an apology in the slightest. "I'm going back to the hotel. If you want to wander around for a bit you can go ahead. I'm sure you can get to the papers later."

Sam grabbed your arm as he stood up, his thumb swiping across the skin as he looked at you with some concern.

"You sure you're alright?" Sam asked as he met your eyes, and you wrenched yourself from his grip.

"I'll be fine. Enjoy Paris, see the Louvre, climb the Eiffel Tower," you replied with a small smile. "Eat a baguette, meet a pretty French girl."

"[Y/N]...." he began gently, and you clasped his shoulder.

"Go. Make up for those thirteen years. I mean it," you declared with a chuckle that rung hollow in your ears.

He looked hesitant, but he nodded, and you used the opportunity to walk away, feeling his eyes on your back with every step you took.

You found yourself wishing that you had the old version of him, the one that didn't think of you as anything but his tech support and friend. Not the one who's looks always carried a certain weight and smiles seemed a tad too bright.

You pulled your jacket around you a little tighter and kept walking towards your hotel.

\---------------------------------------------///--------------------------------------------------

It had been all too easy to scout the place out, the paper flapping in Sam's hand as he watched a lanky blond unlock the front gate of the Parisian house.

Sam had intended to do what she had told him. To see the tourist sights, to allow himself to enjoy a few hours of solitude to see all that he couldn't while locked in that prison.

Somehow Nathan and him had never made it to Paris, their jobs usually placing them in warmer locales and never in the same place for too long. Even if they had somehow stumbled into Paris it wasn't like they could enjoy it before they took the next flight, the next boat, the next mode of transport to escape.

Except Sam didn't like solitude. Never had. Solitude allowed doubts to creep in that he couldn't afford to have while caring for his little brother, that maybe he never should have taken Nate to that house all those years ago.

Prison had only made it worse, years upon years sitting in a cell wondering if he had run a little faster, jumped a little higher, maybe he would have gotten out with Nate and Rafe. Wondering if he was destined to die in Panama, his corpse likely to be looted for whatever scraps of possessions he still had by prisoners and guards alike.

The man slipped inside, the gate closing behind him with a sharp click, and Sam made a note of the combination.

The house seemed easy enough to get into, the man looking like he could easily be overpowered. Not that Sam really wanted to hurt him, especially not if [Y/N] were ever to find out.

Wait, why did her opinion matter in all this? She would understand to a certain degree that certain jobs required you to get your hands dirty, wouldn't she?

The man entered the house with a key, emerging a few minutes later humming to himself, and Sam made his way forward.

He knocked into the man's shoulder, offering rapid apologies to which the man replied with a polite smile and reassurances that it was fine.

As the man walked down the opposite end of the street, Sam examined the key with a small grin.

"Sorry [Y/N]," Sam murmured as he glanced at the house. "Sometimes a man's gotta go what a man's gotta do."

\--------------------------------------////--------------------------------------------------------

You sat in a Parisian police station as a constable explained in accented English how your 'friend' had been found trespassing on the property of one Thomas Leclerc.

You half-listened to the officer as you glanced over at Sam, sitting in a shared cell appearing to play poker with another criminal, and winning based on the expression he was sporting.

You wanted to grab a chair and bang it against the bars, scream at him for being so goddamn stupid and reckless, for breaking into someone's home rather than acting like a NORMAL person and waiting for the man to come home a week later.

Now there was no chance in hell that Leclerc would ever let you see a single document in his home, your only lead vanishing.

You nodded as the officer explained the cost of bail, and for a moment you debated just leaving the damn bastard in there. Served him right for being an idiot.

Perhaps you could explain to Leclerc the mistake that had been made, that you were not aware of Sam's plans and pray he would be merciful. Of course it would mean that Sam couldn't see any of the papers, that you would need to go through them all yourself, not that you really wanted him to or that he would be much help in that regard.

You'd been lucky that Marie had even agreed to help pay for his bail after a lengthy phone call explaining your progress, and only after you has reassured her that this type of thing would never happen again.

And that perhaps you should just lock Sam in your hotel room, though she said the latter with a small laugh.

Nice to know someone found this all to be amusing.

You could barely look Sam in the eye as you sat in the lobby once the bail had been paid, and when he tried to speak his was clearly startled by the intensity of your glare.

"Look, I knew you wanted to find out sooner rather than later so...." he began.

"I'm sorry, at what point did I tell you that the solution to everything was to try to steal Leclerc's research from his home?" You hissed so sharply you expected daggers to fly out of your mouth. "Because the only thing I remember saying was to enjoy Paris."

"No one was supposed to be home, it was gonna...." Sam began.

"Oh, because no one was supposed to be there it would be fine?" You barked as you ran your hands through your hair. "Yeah, sure, let's steal from someone to get what we want. Yeah, that definitely doesn't remind me of anyone. Nope."

You chuckled mirthlessly.

"God, you and Abbie really are birds of a feather aren't you? No wonder the two of you were screwing," you muttered as you shook your head. "Look, I'll talk to Leclerc. Alone. Try and beg to let me, not you, me, see the research he's done. If it means I lie and say I don't know you, so be it."

"So what, you're cutting me out now?" Sam asked sharply, and you rubbed your eyes.

"No one is cutting you out. Actually, Marie, for some reason, is willing to give you another chance," you murmured before you met his eyes. "And I'm loyal to my promises, believe it or not. I said I'd help you find whatever Les Chats may have left behind, and that's what I'm gonna do."

You sighed.

"Just...promise me no more crazy shit? Alright?" You asked, a bit softer now. "Or at least let me know so I can prep the bail?"

A smile quirked on his lips and he nodded.

"Alright, let's get back to the hotel and plan the damage control," you murmured, nodding for him to follow you.

"You...might need to put that on hold for a moment," Sam retorted, and you looked at him questioningly before you followed his gaze.

A lanky blond was approaching you rapidly and you tensed as you prepared yourself for an angry tirade of French. Rightfully deserved, but still, you weren't looking forward to it.

"Didn't know you associated yourself with common criminals darling," the man declared as he stopped in front of you, and when you recognized him a bright grin dawned on your features.

"So you did take that contract in Paris. Traitor," you retorted, causing James to chuckle as his clear blue eyes met yours.

"You still haven't given me an explanation why you're bailing out the man I found breaking into my boss' home," James declared as he slipped his hands into his pockets, and you rolled your eyes.

"This man, unfortunately," you replied as you patted Sam's arm. "Is my contractor."

"Samuel Drake, meet James Kirk," you declared as you gestured between them. "The the only other expert on the First World War at the Antiquities before he abandoned us to work for some old man in France. Apparently the pay was better or something."

"Not to mention the hours," James chimed in and you laughed, and you swore you saw Sam look at you for a moment too long before his gaze settled on the man across from you.

"No hard feelings I hope?" James declared cheerfully as he stuck out his hand for Sam to shake, which he took and shook briefly.

"I'm really sorry we put you through all this Jim," you apologized, and James shook his head.

"Was getting kind of boring looking after Leclerc's house. Needed some excitement," he retorted with a wink, and you smiled as Sam seemed to tense beside you. James checked his watch and sighed. "And I should be heading back. Sorry."

"It's fine," Sam replied tensely, and you looked at him with a frown.

James began to walk away, and you motioned for Sam to stay put before you chased James down.

"Ummm, James?" You asked as you caught up to him, causing him to stop and look down at you expectantly. "Would you mind if we, uhhh, looked at those documents my friend tried to steal?"

James looked hesitant.

"You do owe me a favour for Switzerland," you reminded him.

"Blackmail? Never thought you had it in you," James retorted with an impressed smile before he looked at Sam. "I...I can give you a few hours. That's it, and if Leclerc asks, you were never there."

You nodded, wrapping your arms around James' frame gratefully, and he chuckled before he hugged you back tightly.

"Crap, now I'll owe you one, won't I?" You murmured playfully as you released him, and he shrugged before he grinned down at you.

"Afraid so darling. Don't worry, when I ask for it, you won't be too strained," he retorted with a grin that you easily returned, and you didn't notice Sam approach you until he spoke.

"We should head back to the hotel," he declared, and you frowned as you stepped back, nodding to him. "So, we'll see you tomorrow then?"

James nodded with a small smile on his features, as if he was amused.

"I'll keep the gate open. Not that it was much of an issue for you when it was closed," James retorted before he left and a sharp look came over Sam's eyes as he watched James leave.

"It was a joke," you retorted, patting his arm. "C'mon idiot, let's get back to the hotel and get ourselves some rest. Don't want to drool all over the papers tomorrow now do we?"

"Yeah," Sam retorted, though he sounded distracted.

You walked ahead, and when he didn't follow you stopped.

"Didn't know you wanted to sleep in a cell, Sam," you teased, and he chuckled a little before he followed, though a small frown had settled on his features.

You elected not to ask what was bothering him, trying to stifle a yawn as you walked back, too focused on your own exhaustion to really pay attention.

You didn't fight it when he tucked you under his arm as you walked, leaning into him sleepily.

"Still pissed at you, you know," you declared, causing him to hum in acknowledgement. "Lucky for you James showed up and is able to get us the documents despite your efforts."

"Yeah," Sam murmured, his tone almost self-deprecating. "Lucky for me, isn't it?"


	4. Hopeful Discoveries

Jealousy was a frequent bedfellow more than Sam Drake would like to admit.

Jealous of the fact he could never give Nathan the childhood he had deserved, jealous it had been Sullivan and not him that had been Nate's companion for all those years Sam had been locked up in Panama, though there was little jealousy for the life Nate had chosen of domestic bliss.

Sam could never be content with having the wife, the child, the house in a quaint neighbourhood, the desk job.

Perhaps that was why he kept running as far from that as he could, never having a woman for longer than a few months, never setting down enough ties to truly belong anywhere. Nomadic as they came, and content with that fact.

He glanced over at [Y/N], tucking her hair behind her ear as James leaned in close beside her, papers strewn out between them as they spoke of the First World War and the people who used it to their advantage.

James appeared to murmur something in her ear causing her to whack his arm playfully, giggling a little and it made Sam bristle more than he would like to admit.

James had kept his promise, allowing the pair into the home of Thomas Leclerc and access to the man's files, bountiful in number. Sam knew he should be grateful that the man wasn't pressing charges.

Still didn't alleviate the sharp twist in Sam's gut whenever James held [Y/N]'s gaze a little too long, a charming grin always on his thin features as he spoke to her.

The man wasn't even that attractive, his features too thin and sharp, his mouth a mere line and his eyes too wide. Not that Sam considered himself the handsomest man either....though from his limited experience women didn't seem to mind that.

[Y/N] looked up from the papers and grinned at Sam, approaching him eagerly with more papers in her hands.

"So James and I think that the Dove and the Lark might have been Marie and Emilie, though there's nothing about Joan," she declared, frowning a little. "Not that I expected to find much considering she was a common thief but...."

"You could try looking into the Paris archives for police records if she ever got herself caught," James offered, and [Y/N] shook her head.

"From what we've seen, she was brilliant at what she did, never got herself caught," [Y/N] murmured, and Sam was surprised when she nudged him a little. "Might rival the skills of our dear Sam here."

"You sure about that?" James murmured, and Sam bristled at the statement. "She was supposed to be quite good."

"Yeah, well, maybe I should rethink my statement," [Y/N] declared with a chuckle. "Poor Sam's reputation has been tarnished now due to you."

"And what reputation is that?" Sam asked her with a smile as he set down the papers, and she rolled her eyes.

"As if you don't know already, Sam. Sorry, not stroking that ego," she retorted, though there was a smile on her lips.

"And what's yours?" Sam asked playfully as he met her eyes.

"Excellent historian with a kind heart and a passion for what she does," James retorted instead of [Y/N], causing the latter to blush a little.

"I'm good, not excellent," she murmured with a self-deprecating laugh.

"Says the woman who singlehandedly helped me to find treasure in Newfoundland," Sam reminded her as he picked up the papers again, and her smile was a little dimmer.

"Yeah, well, I think you could have managed that on your own with enough time and resources," she replied.

"And if Abigail and Clarke didn't try to pull a fast one on you," James added, causing [Y/N] to look at him sharply. He put his hands up defensively. "Sorry, I'll be quiet."

"First decent thing I've heard you say all day," Sam muttered, believing it was too quiet for him to hear, though based on the look that [Y/N] gave him it wasn't quiet enough.

[Y/N] looked at the papers in her hands before she set them down, going back to the main table and sorting through what was spread out there. James murmured something to her and she laughed again.

She picked out a few papers from the stack, glancing through them before she all but flopped onto a nearby sofa.

"So we know that the Dove and the Lark had a set of regular clients, mostly officers from the local regiments, though most of the names seem to be made up so we can't trace back to any specific men," she declared with a frown, rubbing her eyes. "I think I'm starting to hate Madam Addams for all this damn secrecy."

"And of course there's no information if these clients took part in both their specialties," Sam declared.

"One step forward, ten steps back," James murmured with a sigh, and Sam found himself frowning a little.

[Y/N] flung her arm over her eyes, letting out a long sigh causing James to chuckle.

"If you want to take a break, it's fine," James declared and she shook her head. "You sure? Because I for one am starving..."

"Please don't tell me you're about to ask the woman in the room to make you a sandwich," she retorted, causing James to laugh.

"I was about to say there's a shop ten minutes from here that has food," James countered. "If you want a break while Sam and I keep looking through everything then it's fine."

She sighed again before she nodded, standing up with a small huff.

James scribbled down something on a sheet of paper, looking at Sam expectantly.

"You want anything?" James asked, Sam shaking his head before he glanced over at [Y/N] slipping on her jacket.

Suddenly the notion of being stuck in a room with Mr. Charming and British seemed less than appealing.

"I think I'll come with you," Sam declared as he stood up, [Y/N] looking at him questioningly before she shrugged.

"Yep, because sandwiches are so difficult to carry right?" She retorted with a smile.

"I dunno, maybe today will prove you wrong," Sam countered as he slipped on his jacket, causing [Y/N] to shake her head, though with a certain amusement.

The two of them slipped out of the house, [Y/N] slipping her hands in her pockets as Sam made sure to close the gate behind them.

"Thank God we have James working with us now, makes getting through all this madness a little easier," [Y/N] declared.

"What, I wasn't enough?" Sam teased, though he couldn't deny there was some truth to it.

"Three pairs of eyes are better than two, especially when the third actually seems to know what he's doing," she retorted.

"Thought you knew what you were doing," Sam countered, and she shrugged.

"I can only work with the info I've been given and what I know from a Masters from two years ago. Neither is really putting us at an advantage," she replied.

"You seemed to be doing fine without him, trust me," Sam retorted, and she looked up at him with a small frown.

"Sam, look..." she began before she looked away from him. "I know you're embarrassed about what happened, but it's fine. Trust me, there are worse people to be caught by than Jim."

The nickname settled on her tongue so familiarly that Sam felt another twist in his stomach.

"I'm not embarrassed," Sam retorted quietly, and [Y/N] shook her head.

"Sure," she simply replied, clearly not buying it.

"I just....how do we know it's not gonna be like Clarke?" Sam asked, and she snorted a little.

"Trust me, it won't be. I've known Jim for two years now, and he's as loyal to his friends as a golden retriever," she replied with a chuckle. "Except for the whole Paris thing, and I can't blame him for that."

"How did you two meet anyways?" Sam asked as he looked down at her, and an amused grin spread across her features.

"He was there my first week in Anton Antiquities, took me under his wing and trained me," she replied. "We actually did my first job together. Well, second if you count Newfoundland. Made sure I didn't get another bullet to the shoulder."

She rubbed her shoulder absentmindedly as she spoke.

"We worked well together. Nearly broke my heart when he left for Paris actually," she murmured, and Sam wasn't sure he wanted her to elaborate. "It's hard to find people you can work well with."

He looked at her for a moment, taking in the curl of her hair and the lovely eyes that met his when he didn't respond right away, nodding before he smiled.

"Like you and me?" Sam replied gently, almost hopefully, and she scoffed.

"You're kidding me right? We work horribly together. I mean, Newfoundland was a disaster," she retorted, and for a moment he was struck with the notion that she was being serious. Until she winked and nudged his arm. "Christ Sam, where's that sense of humour I know and love?"

"Love, huh?" Sam murmured more to himself than her. "Something I should know?"

"Like what?" She asked innocently before she caught on. "Oh. Uh. No, not really."

She chuckled mirthlessly.

"Truth be told I don't think I've been in love for the past two years...."

They arrived at the store and she looked grateful to be able to dart inside while Sam waited in the street.

"Two years?" Sam murmured to himself, actually feeling....I dunno, hopeful? But for what? Sure, she had gotten gorgeous, but that was it. And yeah, he was interested, but not in that.

Romance was dead in this business, no use reviving it for some woman with a lovely smile who had more than her fair share of wit and charm.

Besides, he couldn't have expected her to wait two years for him, could he?

She popped out of the store, sandwiches and drinks in her arms before Sam took the drinks.

The walk back to the house was mostly in silence, [Y/N] admiring the scenery though there was this strange edge to it that made Sam wonder if there was something more she wanted to say.

"So you're faring brilliantly with our plethora of information, right?" She eventually murmured with a smirk, and Sam nodded with a grin.

"Oh yeah. Definitely. Especially the names of the officers....I believe their names were Larry, Curly and Moe, right?" Sam declared as he looked down at her, though she appeared to have stopped. "What?"

"Oh my God," she declared before she met his eyes. "You're a genius."

"Something I already know, but go ahead," Sam replied with a grin.

"Alright, so the bordello has mostly officers for its clientele, right? Not regular foot soldiers from the looks of it," she began to ramble. "Because they probably wouldn't have anything useful that the girls could trade for a profit, only good for selling their wares to like cigarettes and liquor."

"What's your point?"

"Sam," she murmured, tucking the sandwiches under her arm before she clasped his hands and squeezed them excitedly. "They're the mascots of the regiments. Which Les Chats likely used in order to know where to send the goods."

Sam's eyes widened before he grinned.

"Yeah, you're right. You're just 'good' at this," Sam declared, biting his lip a little and he swore he saw [Y/N]'s eyes dart towards his mouth before she glanced down at their hands, still intertwined.

She quickly dropped them, her eyes darting back to the house.

"Oh God, I have to tell James," she murmured before she practically sprinted towards the building, tossing open the gate and running inside as if she was terrified she was going to forget.

Sam shook his head fondly before he followed her, her eager voice already carrying into the hallway once he stepped inside.

He barely had time to set down the drinks before [Y/N] shoved a book in his hands, a regimental history by the looks of it, telling him to skim through it for the names of any mascots that might match up.

Guess it was time for him to genuinely get to work.

\----------------------------------------------///-----------------------------------------------

Sam awoke a few hours later, a book draped across his chest while another had flopped onto the floor.

He yawned as he pushed the book off his chest, placing it on the sofa with a soft thump before he rubbed his eyes.

He stretched his arms up, glancing around the room to find that no one else was in it. Huh.

The group had been working all through the afternoon and into the evening looking for the information they needed, and Sam figured he must have fallen asleep by the time the clock had struck midnight.

Christ, he was getting old wasn't he?

The gray hairs weren't enough of a reminder, were they? Now he had to doze off like an old man in front of the TV, likely to [Y/N]'s amusement.

Where was she anyways?

He heard voices in the kitchen as he stood up, checking his cell phone and wincing when he noted it was two o'clock in the morning.

He should probably go in there and let her know he was awake so they could get back to work.

"I just want what's best for you, that's all."

It was clearly James' voice, and he tensed, the image of him stroking back [Y/N]'s hair with those long fingers flashing through his mind.

"I know," she retorted with a heavy sigh. "I know you do. And I appreciate it, really. But..."

James paused, and Sam quietly inched closer to the kitchen.

"Look, at the end of the day, it's your choice what you want. And I know you might not want to hear the advice of some old man...." James replied.

"You're not that old," she interrupted, and James chuckled as Sam stood in the hallway.

He had a good view of the kitchen, [Y/N] sitting on the counter as James appeared to be fiddling with something on the stove, stirring a thick brown liquid in a pot.

"But at least take it into consideration, alright?" James asked as he turned to her, meeting her eyes. When she didn't respond he leaned in closer, and Sam watched him grasp her chin lightly, sporting a grin. "Alright?"

She sighed, her eyes slipping closed before she nodded, and James placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before he released her chin.

Sam's fists had curled and he tensed, a sharp wave of something between protectiveness and an emotion he refused to name settling in his veins.

James looked away from the stove in that moment, grinning brightly as he met Sam's eyes.

"Oh good, you're awake. I'm making us some hot chocolate. Well, mostly for [Y/N] since she refuses to drink coffee," James declared before he looked over at [Y/N] with a certain fondness. "You want any?"

"I'm good, thanks," Sam retorted sharply, causing [Y/N] to look at him and frown. "I'll be back in the study if you need me."

[Y/N] murmured something as he retreated, James speaking in low tones in response before it sounded like he was chuckling.

Did that asshole ever stop laughing?

Sam settled back onto the sofa, looking over the documents tiredly before [Y/N] came in, a mug in her hands.

"I can look over those if you want to go to bed. James says you can use the guest room if you want," she declared, and Sam shook his head. "Sam, you're exhausted. It's fine, I can handle it."

She set the mug down on a nearby table, bending down and taking the book from his hands, their fingers brushing for a moment.

"C'mon old man, time for your beauty rest," she murmured teasingly, squeezing his arm before she set the book down on the desk.

"I'm not that old," he reminded her as he stood up, stretching out again causing his bones to pop and crack.

"Oh God, you're decrepit, Sam," she replied with a laugh as she went to retrieve the mug.

She did not see the book on the floor in the dim light, stumbling over it and before Sam realized what he was doing he had caught her in his arms.

She looked up at him in surprise, his hands settling gently on her waist.

"I'm not....usually this clumsy, I swear," she murmured as their eyes met, laughing to herself. "You just seem to be witnessing all the falls."

"Then I guess I'll have to be there to catch you just in case," Sam retorted, his hands still resting on her waist. "For....safety, y'know."

She nodded mutely as she placed her hands on his forearms, using them to straighten herself out.

"And the moments when you can't?" She asked, stepping back before she bent down and picked up the book. "Unless you plan to stalk me, of course."

Sam didn't have a response to that at first, watching her toss the book onto the sofa before she picked up the mug.

She took a sip, her tongue flicking out to catch the chocolate still on her lips and Sam was grateful for the darkness as he watched her mouth intently.

"Then I have the confidence you could catch yourself," Sam retorted softly.

She nodded, glancing into the hallway, and when Sam followed her gaze he saw James standing there. A glance passed between them that set Sam on edge.

"I'll see you in the morning, [Y/N]," Sam declared, nodding to James politely though his eyes stayed on her. "Don't work too hard."

"Don't snore too loudly," [Y/N] teased as he went up the stairs, and he laughed to himself as he made his way to the guest room.

He set himself down on the bed, rubbing his eyes before he kicked off his shoes.

He all but collapsed into the sheets as he laid back, trying to ignore the voices and laughter that drifted upstairs.

Trying his best not to linger on the image of James' lips against [Y/N]'s forehead, or thoughts of what else he could be doing with her.

He was quite stunned when he woke up an hour or so later that he'd been able to drift off to sleep at all, shifting around tiredly before his arm met something solid.

He turned his head sleepily, [Y/N] curled up on the other side of the bed, so close to the edge it looked like she was going to fall off.

She shifted, beginning to tip over and without pausing he reached out, pulling her closer to the centre of the bed.

She shifted again, turning over under his arm with a sigh, and Sam found himself smiling as he closed his eyes.

A scrap of hope settled warmly in his chest as he drifted back to sleep.


	5. Cautiously Optimistic

Sam awoke to the sounds of someone cooking in the kitchen, a certain woman already gone from his bed.

Unless he had simply imagined it in a sleepy haze and she had never been there in the first place. Wouldn't that just be his luck.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes before he stretched, his bones creaking and he frowned to himself.

For Christ's sake, he was 47, not 62.

He slipped out of bed, his clothes from the day before still on his frame and he did his bed to straighten them out.

He padded down to the kitchen, someone humming to themselves before they began to sing quietly.

"You're just too good to be true...can't take my eyes off of you..." the person sang as Sam stepped into the doorway.

The man was shorter than James, his hair a cropped auburn and when he finally noticed Sam he looked startled.

"Jesus..." the man began in surprise, his accent unrecognizable to Sam before the man smiled apologetically. "Sorry, they told me you'd be sleeping for a few more hours."

"James and [Y/N]?" Sam asked knowingly, the other man nodding.

The man's face was composed of odd angles, though he supposed he could be handsome enough.

"They've gone out to get you all some lunch, but I think they said they'd be back soon," the man explained.

The man plated Sam some toast, and Sam must have looked surprised because the man laughed.

"Sorry, force of habit," the man replied. "James and Leclerc keep precise hours so I'm used to having to make them something around this time. Wouldn't want the food to go to waste."

The man added an egg to the plate.

"I'm Timothy," the man introduced himself with a curt nod, Sam nodding in response as he ate some toast.

"So, you're the cook then?" Sam asked around the toast in his mouth, and the man looked amused.

"Of sorts," he retorted with a certain gleam in his eye as the front door opened.

"Sorry, they didn't have much at the store so we had to hunt around a few more shops," [Y/N] declared as she stepped into the kitchen.

She noticed Sam sitting there and gave him a small smile, a certain flush to her cheeks that made her look all the more attractive.

God really couldn't give him a break, could he?

James set some groceries on the counter, walking over to Timothy before he wrapped his arms around the other man's waist.

Sam watched James' lips travel from the other man's neck to his cheek, humming something in his ear that Tim replied to with a small laugh.

"You two can't stop acting like a couple for a minute? You're making me nauseous," [Y/N] teased as she slipped into the seat beside Sam.

"Afraid not," James retorted, kissing Tim gently and Sam frowned in confusion.

"Now you know how I felt in Switzerland," [Y/N] murmured suddenly in his ear. "Most awkward third wheel ever."

"So you two aren't...there isn't...." Sam began as he looked at her, and she frowned.

"We're not...what?" She asked in confusion.

"You're not...together then?" Sam asked awkwardly.

"Why would we...oh. Uh. Wow. No," [Y/N] retorted with a laugh. "No, not even close."

James and Timothy broke apart, wearing matching grins of pure adoration and [Y/N] smiled a little.

"I was working with James in Switzerland on assignment and we needed the help of this mountaineer to find the next clues. We hired Timothy and the rest is history," she explained.

Never mind God, you're doing brilliantly.

"They've been together since then. I would hate it if it wasn't so adorable," she continued.

"Why would you hate it?" Sam asked with interest.

"Well, you know..." she began with a chuckle that was almost nervous. "When you're lonely all happy couples look like they're mocking you."

"You're lonely?" Sam asked, his eyebrow going up as his interest was certainly piqued.

"You're not?" She countered as she met his eyes. "Oh wait, never mind, you're a Drake. You get a different woman with every expedition you take."

She laughed a little.

"You're like Bond without all the fancy gadgets," she declared.

"So you're my girl this time then?" Sam asked with a certain edge, and she looked at him sharply.

"Not your anything, Sam," she muttered as she stood up, walking out of the kitchen as James shook his head.

"Think you came on a bit too strong there Sam," James declared with a sigh. "Though I applaud the effort."

Sam finished off his breakfast, pushing the plate away before he decided to follow her.

He found her looking through the books on the desk intensely, eyes darting over the pages before she flipped to the next one.

"Sorry, I, uh....I might have misread something," Sam declared, causing her to look up briefly.

"Sam Drake apologizing? Now I've seen everything," she murmured more to herself than him as she went back to the books.

"You find anything?" He asked as she continued to skim, and she didn't look up at him.

"Not too much, sadly," she retorted. "Though it's entertaining to see what names the mascots had."

A silence settled between them, broken every so often by her flipping through the pages.

Sam watched her tuck some hair behind her ear, still not looking at him though her eyes weren't moving.

"You find something?" He asked with a small smile, and she shook her head before she rubbed at her eyes. "Everything alright there babe?"

"Do you even hear yourself sometimes?" She retorted sharply, closing the book firmly before she tucked it under her arm. "You can look through the stuff here, I...I need to talk to James for a few minutes about something."

She left the room quite quickly after that statement, not even giving Sam time to respond and he frowned to himself.

He glanced over at the papers piled up on the desk, picking one up and examining it before he sighed, his thoughts as far away from the information on the page as possible.

Her words only seemed to be getting sharper with him every time he got a little too flirtatious, and each time it happened he found himself frowning deeper and deeper.

He knew he shouldn't worry too much about it, she appeared to get over it fairly quickly, but for some reason this particular instance was lingering in his mind.

He set down the paper before he slipped into the hallway, an apology already on his lips when he heard what sounded almost like...crying.

He followed the source of the sound into the kitchen, where he found James' arm around [Y/N]'s shoulders as she appeared to be crying, the book she had carried out set on the counter.

James looked up, meeting Sam's eyes before he shook his head. James made a motion with his hand for Sam to go back to the study, and it infuriated him.

"I wanna talk to [Y/N]," Sam declared firmly, and James shook his head again as [Y/N] sat there quietly.

"Sam, just....this isn't going to take too long, it's better if you go back to the study," James declared quietly.

"[Y/N], what's going on?" Sam asked gently. "Hmm?"

She didn't respond, not even looking at him, wiping at her eyes with her hands.

He offered one of his own, holding it out to her until she finally looked at him.

Her eyes were rimmed with red, her face flushed as she wiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

"Sorry, I'm just....I'm exhausted from all this. I think I should probably lie down," she murmured, removing herself from James' grasp.

She ignored Sam's hand entirely, walking past him with the book tucked under her arm, the stairs creaking slightly as she made her way upstairs.

Sam began to follow her until James caught his arm.

"Trust me, it's best you don't follow her," he murmured, Sam wrenching himself from the other man's grasp. "She just...she needs to be alone for awhile, that's all."

Sam looked at the staircase before he looked back at James.

"Please. She's just....she's just drained from all this, you know how it gets sometimes," James continued with a small smile. "You and I can keep working on finding what you need, she'll join us later."

"No offence, but I hired her, not you. I won't work if she isn't," Sam retorted before he climbed up the stairs, and he swore he heard James murmur something under his breath.

She was sitting up in bed, flipping through the pages as tears continued to stream down her cheeks, wiping at them angrily as she worked.

"Having a mental breakdown and still working. I don't know whether to be impressed or concerned," Sam declared with a chuckle, though she didn't join in. "Look, I'll leave you alone, but I just wanna say that I'm sorry. Again."

She didn't respond.

"That's all," Sam continued before he absentmindedly drummed on the doorframe with his fingers, hesitating to leave. "Though I'd feel better if you took a nap at least."

She looked over the pages, still crying, still not saying a word as she nodded. She wrote something down on the margins with a pencil, tucking it behind her ear before she wiped her eyes again.

"Christ [Y/N], you're breaking my heart," Sam declared with a frown, and for some reason that caused an ugly sob to rip through her. "Why do I feel like I'm always saying the wrong thing around ya lately?

"It's...it's fine, I'm just...." she began before she took a wobbly breath. "I do better if I keep my mind focused on something. If I try to sleep I'm just going to lie there thinking about what I have to do."

"I don't know how much help that book is gonna be when you get it smudged with your tears," Sam teased as he sat down at the foot of the bed. He took the book from her hands gently, closing it before he set it on the nightstand. "So, you wanna tell me what's wrong or you prefer to continue to handle this on your own?"

He meant it as a joke and yet she only seemed to cry harder, and without hesitating he set his hand on top of hers.

"If you're getting frustrated by the lack of anything, trust me, I know. I'm pretty close to pulling my hair out myself," Sam declared with a chuckle. "Not to mention the fact I keep hitting on you when you're clearly not interested probably is making it worse, right?"

To his surprise she shook her head, intertwining their fingers as she took a shaky breath.

"James....James is...." she began shakily, and Sam waited for her to catch her breath, his thumb rubbing what he hoped were comforting circles against the top of her hand. "James is right. This whole damn thing, it's....it's just stupid. Just....Christ."

"If you want to take a break from all this, I don't mind. We can go to the Louvre, or the Eiffel Tower, or somewhere a lot less touristy," Sam murmured. "I always did want to see Paris."

She continued trying to catch her breath and he inched closer.

"Like I said, there aren't any men with guns trying to chase this down to. It's just you and me, alright? No urgency. If I need to give more of the treasure over to compensate for the extra time I'll do it, don't worry."

She met his eyes, taking a few deep gulps of air.

"Promise me you'll tell me if this is getting to be too much. Hell, I can always just go searching for this on my own..."

"You wouldn't know where to look," she reminded him.

"True, but it would be entertaining to watch, wouldn't it?" Sam asked, and he smiled when she chuckled, albeit brokenly. "So...is this too much?"

She glanced down at his hand still clasping her own before she met his eyes, and she nodded a little.

"Alright, so, what can I do to help?" Sam asked.

She opened her mouth to say something before she closed it, sighing.

"C'mon, you can tell me," he urged, and she took a deep breath.

"Tell me why you're suddenly interested," she murmured. "And....please, for the love of God, please don't say it's because I lost some weight. B-because I'm really, really hoping you're not that shallow."

Sam closed his eyes and sighed, releasing her hand.

"I...I don't know, actually," Sam murmured, and he realized as he said it that he wasn't lying. "I just....I dunno. You walked into that office with...something that you didn't have before. I mean, sure, it could be the weight thing, I'm not gonna pretend it's not."

He opened his eyes, looking at her intently as he shrugged.

"You just...you're not the kid I knew two years ago," Sam declared. "That's all."

She nodded quietly, wiping at her eyes.

"I never was that kid," she replied softly as she looked away. "You just were too wrapped up in Abbie to notice. And God, I hated you for it. I mean...I poured my heart out to you, and you still...I mean, I kissed you before I left and maybe part of me thought it might convince you that I had been there from the beginning. And you still picked her at the end."

"If it's any consolation, she broke my heart in the end," Sam murmured with a small smile.

"You broke mine, Sam," she replied as she looked at him. "I...I don't know what the hell James was thinking. I don't feel any better, I just feel worse."

"Tells you not to trust everything a Brit tells you," Sam retorted, and despite her tears she laughed.

"But that accent though, it makes everything sound so wise," she replied jokingly.

Sam shifted closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and she wordlessly leaned into him.

Her forehead pressed against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him, and Sam found himself leaning into her as well. His hand rubbed circles into her upper back before his finger brushed against some puckered skin.

"I'm guessing the fact I got you shot and nearly killed once or twice didn't exactly make you fond of me either after the fact," Sam murmured, and she laughed.

"No, no it didn't," she murmured. "My perfect shoulder is ruined because of you, I hope you know that. I mean, what man will ever take me now? My prospects are ruined."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," he retorted.

She released herself from his grasp, turning around on the bed so that her back was facing him. She motioned to her shoulder.

Sam pulled down the shoulder of her shirt, running his finger over the skin that was harshly puckered and scarred.

"I really did a number on you didn't I?" Sam declared.

"What do you mean you did?" She asked. "You didn't shoot me."

"I was the one who took out the bullet," Sam replied. "Abbie was screaming at me the entire time I did it too, saying if you got hurt she was gonna kill me."

"And now she could give less of a crap about me," she replied with a sigh.

"Well you haven't talked to her in two years," Sam reminded her.

"True. But then again, didn't want to after she stole my man," [Y/N] joked slightly, and Sam made a low sound in his throat of interest.

"Your man, huh? Didn't know you could get so possessive," he murmured into her ear teasingly. "Especially since I was never yours to begin with..."

"You don't ever stop flirting, do you?" She replied with a chuckle that seemed nervous, and Sam grinned. "No wonder you got all those women to sleep with you."

"Yes, all five of them. Such a plethora," he countered as he slipped off the bed. He walked around her, the book in his hand as he looked at her. When she tried to get up he shook his head. "Nuh uh. I meant what I said before. You're sleeping, I'm actually gonna pull my weight in this expedition for once and do some research."

"Holy shit," [Y/N] replied sarcastically. "Do....do you think that's possible?"

"Har har har," he countered as he tucked the book under his arm. "Now, I don't wanna see you for an hour. You try to sneak down to work, I'm gonna haul your ass back up here, got it?"

She nodded, slipping herself under the covers before she lay down.

He began to walk out the door when she called out to him, making him stop.

"Sam?" She asked from the bed, and he nodded. "This whole thing, what we talked about....it's definitely gonna make things awkward later, isn't it?"

"Doesn't have to be," Sam retorted. "I mean, I'm interested in you, you used to be interested in me. What's awkward about that?"

She chuckled at that, and he grinned.

"Happy researching Sam," she declared.

He sauntered back into the room, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Sleep well [Y/N]," he replied softly, and when she looked at him in surprise. "Hey, if it's gonna be awkward anyways what's the harm?

"Thought you said it wasn't gonna be awkward," she retorted as she met his eyes, and he shrugged.

"Well...call me cautiously optimistic."


	6. What We Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. That's all I'm gonna say. 

"So you told him then?"

You curled up on the sofa, sipping some tea from a worn mug before you nodded.

"And it wasn't as awful as you imagined, right?" James retorted with a grin, and you smiled a little. "So...you want to work out some signal to get me out of the room whenever you two...."

"It's not like that," you replied automatically. "I was interested. Past tense."

"So I suppose I imagined all those looks you've been giving him for the past few days, hmm?" James countered with a smirk.

"James...." you began tiredly.

"This isn't Newfoundland, [Y/N]. He isn't about to run off to be with someone else," James replied as he sat down beside you. "In fact, from I've seen he doesn't want to go anywhere you're not."

"Him finding me attractive and him genuinely caring about me are two completely separate things," you reminded him, and James sighed.

"You know, it is possible for both to be true," James teased you, and you worried your bottom lip. "Don't overthink this."

"I'm...I'm not you Jim. I don't just leap into things headfirst without thinking about it," you replied quietly.

"Trust me. The worse that can happen is that it all ends in chaos and ruin," James retorted with a chuckle. "But then at least you tried, right?"

"It's...I don't think it's worth it," you countered hesitantly. "Nothing that could happen would be worth it."

"True. But then you would spend another two years going 'what if'," James replied as he nudged her shoulder. "You're interested in him. He's interested in you. Pretty bloody obvious what the next step is."

"I'm not..." you began defensively, James giving you a look that made the words die on your lips. "This is a job. He's my client. You know how Marie gets about these sorts of things."

"You helped me in Switzerland," James replied. "So I'll help you here."

"Help with what?" A familiar voice asked suddenly, causing you to look up in surprise to see Sam standing in the doorway.

"I'm going to keep looking through the files, I think the two of you should follow a lead we might have," James declared as he stood up. "The trio might have worked actively in Cambrai for a period of time, smuggling goods for the Germans."

"So you want us to go there then?" Sam asked as James pulled out his cell phone.

"It isn't too far, there's a train that takes two hours to get there," James explained as he scrolled. "Leclerc has a contact that will be able to help you, I've already called him."

You saw a certain sparkle in James' eyes as he looked at you, and it made your stomach twist at the realization.

The bastard was trying to get you and Sam alone together. You half expected James to say he'd also booked a hotel for the two of you.

"He has a flat he owns that currently has no tenants, he told me he's happy for the two of you to stay there for a few days if necessary."

You gave James a panicked look to which he smirked, and you wanted to throttle him.

"Sounds good. So when do we leave?" Sam asked casually.

"Why are you so confident we'll find something?" You asked skeptically, and James shrugged.

"There's no harm in exploring your options, is there?" He retorted with a certain smile that betrayed mischievousness.

You half-expected 'Matchmaker Matchmaker' to start playing.

You knew him. Once he set his mind to something, it happened. It was how he got Timothy, his old job and this position.

So you caved a little. Sue you.

Besides...maybe he could be right. Maybe you just needed to dive into this headfirst.

It couldn't be as bad as you were thinking, could it?

"Cambrai it is then," you declared, and James grinned triumphantly.

God, you better be right about this you prick.

\--------------------------------------------///---------------------------------------------------

You wondered if James knew more than he was letting on when he decided to send you and Sam here....because you'd been given practically a global map of Les Chats' operations.

Leclerc's contact, as it turned out, specialized in the German occupation of France during the First World War and was more than happy to help out 'a pair of fellow historians'.

If you'd been struggling to find anything before, then you had a plethora of information to sort through now, all of it needing tedious examination.

Les Chats had branched out throughout France, using the German armies to spread the word of their smuggling ring while using their dogs to transport the goods. When the British and French forces found out, those officers interested in their operations offered their cooperation. Those that didn't it appeared to turn a blind eye to it.

That was what interested you the most. That it appeared no one reported them to the authorities, or betrayed them at any point. You wondered if intimidation from the officers came into play in that regard.

Leclerc's contact had sent you home with copies of most of the documents, being sure to add that he would be available at any time if there was any confusion or need for translation.

Every inch of the flat that James' friend had was covered with notes and documents, your head pounding with each document you read through.

Sam didn't appear to be faring much better, chain-smoking as cool air blew in from an open window. Every single time he took another inhale you feared he would drop ashes onto the papers, causing you to watch him intently.

Amongst other reasons for gazing at him.

You didn't like this familiar emotion welling up inside of you, one you thought you had quelled two years ago when it came to him.

You set down your papers and closed your eyes, rubbing them as you leaned back on the sofa.

"Tired?" Sam asked around his cigarette.

"Nah, I'm raring to go," you retorted drily without opening your eyes, earning you a chuckle.

"Good. Means you can take my half," Sam replied, and you snorted softly. "It's not always this bad, is it?"

"Welcome to the world of historical research, Sam," you retorted as you stretched, feeling your shirt ride up a little, and when you opened your eyes you saw Sam's eyes flick away from your torso.

"Is that how you got the scar?" Sam asked with a playful grin, gesturing with his cigarette, and you frowned in confusion before you realized what he was talking about.

"Oh, that," you replied, absentmindedly tracing it as you spoke. "It's not that exciting. Was traversing through some cave and scrapped my side on a sharp rock jutting out of the wall."

You lifted up your shirt a little to glance down at it.

"It actually didn't go that deep, still don't get how I got a scar," you mused.

He was watching the exposed skin with a clear intensity and you found yourself gulping audibly as you lowered your shirt again.

"You know, I think that Joan might have had a birthmark on her neck, maybe someone mentioned a girl..."  
you began.

"You're certainly not the girl who hides behind her computer anymore, are you?" Sam interrupted.

"Yeah, well, there's only so much you can do with a laptop," you retorted.

"You seemed to do fine during the Newfoundland job," Sam countered.

"Is that what you're calling it? Couldn't come up with a snappier title?" You teased, and he chuckled a little. "I...I had no clue what I was doing Sam. I felt like it was better for everyone involved if I just stayed out of the way."

You stood up, walking towards the fridge and opening it to get some water. Instead you found a bottle of champagne and you rolled your eyes.

You wondered if James had told his friend to leave it here. You half expected to find chocolate-covered strawberries too.

"I wish you coulda been there," Sam retorted. "You woulda loved it, I think."

"Watching you moon over Abbie was enough through a screen, didn't need to see it in person," you replied as you got a glass of water.

Sam sighed, taking a deep drag from his cigarette before he spoke.

"Shoulda listened to Sullivan huh?" Sam retorted before he chucked. "He'd probably gloat about me saying that."

"She was beautiful and intelligent, I...I can't blame you for falling for her," you replied.

"Fell for her? Nah, I only wanted to screw her," Sam countered, and you frowned before he laughed. "Kidding. Christ kid the look on your face."

"Is that what you want to do with me?"

You hadn't meant for it to slip out, and you didn't even have the excuse of any liquor in your system to compensate for your statement.

"Wow. Uh...I mean..." Sam began, and...wait was he...he looked embarrassed. Holy shit.

"Sam, it's...it's not like it's some big secret anymore," you murmured.

"It's...not that, trust me. It's just...I didn't expect you to be so blunt about it," Sam retorted with a nervous chuckle. "Christ..."

He shook his head to himself, taking another drag from his cigarette before he stubbed it out.

"You can thank James for that," you replied with a laugh just as nervous. "Sorry."

"Playing matchmaker?" Sam asked, and you nodded. "Figures."

Sam chuckled.

"Sorry about being a dick towards him," Sam murmured. "I...I thought the two of you might have..."

"What, been together?" You asked with a grin.

"Well more accurately...uh, that you screwed," he replied sheepishly, and you cackled.

"Yeah, I'm sure Tim would have loved that," you declared.

"There's...there's nothing happening there, right?" Sam asked, and you frowned.

"Between Tim and James? Of course there...oh," you interrupted yourself. "You meant between me and Jim. No. No not even slightly."

You sipped your water, swirling it around in your mouth as you debated if you should continue.

"Actually...there hasn't been anyone, err, ever," you continued. "Unlike some of us I keep things professional."

"Low blow," Sam retorted with a laugh. "Well hey, your decision. Probably should do that myself, would make things easier."

"So you don't leave a trail of broken hearts and beds?" You countered, for some reason feeling bold, and you wondered if the water had been laced with something. "Sorry. That...I went too far there."

"Nah, it's...accurate," Sam replied.

"So has there ever been a job where you didn't..." you began, and Sam shook his head with a smirk. "Anton would love you. Unprofessional to the nth degree. Stunned she even let me help you."

"Must think the treasure is worth it," Sam countered. "Or maybe she wants you to settle down with a nice adventurer. Playing matchmaker like James."

"You're not nice, Sam," you retorted. "Charming, yes. Hilarious, maybe. Never nice."

You finished off your water.

"Nice boys don't break the hearts of former Master's students and then run off with their boss."

When Sam didn't respond you knew you had taken it too far, and the apology was already on your lips when he stood up.

"Maybe you just don't know me as well as you think," Sam replied.

You were about to let out that apology for making assumptions when you saw a gleam in his eyes that made your stomach plummet.

"Maybe I don't," you murmured as he approached.

"Maybe I just need to prove how nice I can be," Sam purred, and you gulped audibly.

"That would be very nice of you indeed," you replied, the distance between you closing, and you knew if you wanted to back away you had to do so now.

You didn't want to back off in the slightest.

His hand reached out tentatively, hesitating before his hand rested on your waist, the other coming up to rest on the side of your neck.

You had to crane your head to look up at him, and when you met his eyes you saw he looked as nervous as you felt.

"This is what you want, right?" He asked quietly, his calloused thumb brushing over your jaw, and there was no bravado. No confident words, no charming grins, just...him, looking almost terrified.

"Nah, what I want is to find the treasure, but...I suppose finally kissing you again wouldn't be the most awful thing in the world," you teased, and he chuckled as his hand trailed up to cup your cheek.

This wasn't like that moment in the truck, where you had stolen what you wanted.

He was giving this freely, and Christ you wanted it so badly you could barely breathe.

Damn you James. Damn bastard didn't have to be right about everything...

You weren't sure who moved first, you or Sam, but when his chapped lips met yours it didn't matter in the slightest.

You breathed in the scent of cigarettes, permeated on his tongue and it wasn't supposed to taste as good as this right? Hadn't that been what you'd heard from everyone who kissed a smoker?

Your mouth patted slightly and he slipped his tongue into the gap, already lifting you onto the counter with his arm as he let out a small groan.

Your hands bunched in the fabric of his shirt, every movement of his mouth, his chest pressed against yours only spurring you further.

There was no way to come back from this, and you didn't want to.

You tugged his shirt out of his jeans, causing him to pull away in surprise, though when you nodded he dove back in.

He desperately was tugging off your shirt as you worked off his belt, fumbling with it as he grinned against your mouth.

"I'll do it," he breathed, pulling it off before it clattered to the floor.

He pulled off your shirt easily enough, and you envied him for the ease with which he did it...reminding you that you weren't the first.

"Promise me I won't be like the rest," you murmured as he pressed quick kisses to your neck, trailing down your chest and down your stomach.

"You won't be," he murmured.

"How...how do you know that though?" You asked quietly, his hands already making rapid work of the removal of your jeans.

"Because the only place you're going this time is into my bed," he retorted, and if you weren't turned on before God help me you were now. "Though I'm not gonna lie...this counter's looking like a pretty good option...."

He tugged off your jeans, going back up to meet your mouth with his own. You tugged down his pants, pulling him against you as you drank him in entirely.

Which was the precise moment your cell phone rang.

You broke away from him, glancing over at it.

"Don't answer it," he practically begged.

"Work...work has to come...it has to come before I do," you retorted, and he let out a low groan.

"Jesus Christ, keep saying things like that and I'm gonna make sure you break that rule," he moaned as his mouth trailed down your neck.

"It could be important," you somehow replied.

"It can't wait?" He groaned in frustration as you slipped away, and you were truly having a hard time thinking straight.

"Please?" You asked as you met his eyes, and that groan was oozing with sin before he nodded.

You slipped off the counter and picked up his shirt, tossing it on as you answered your phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello [Y/N], I was hoping we could have a brief chat about something concerning Les Chats du Guerre," Marie declared, and you closed your eyes as you sighed.

"Sure. What about it?" You asked as you heard Sam settle on the sofa.

You risked opening your eyes to see him sitting there, legs wide open and you were wondering if it was worth it to just climb on top of him and finish the job.

You were good at multi-tasking after all.

"News of Samuel Drake's recent arrest has reached some of my contacts...and they believe it may tarnish the company's reputation to have any further association with him," Marie retorted.

"You're...you're dropping the case?" You asked in horror.

"We both know that the treasure was a long shot, and we cannot afford at the moment..." she continued.

"We've worked out something with the homeowners, it turns out James is..." you began.

"We will send two tickets to retrieve you," Marie explained.

"You don't understand, we might have actually found something, we just need..." you began desperately.

Sam looked concerned now, standing up and walking towards you with a questioning look.

"[Y/N], I know you are passionate about this case, but you need to understand we only have so many resources we can dedicate to our multiple cases, and we frankly need to focus on those that have a degree of success," Marie said apologetically, and you wanted to throw the phone across the room.

"So that's it? It's done, my opinion doesn't matter?" You asked sharply.

"You can bring what you have found home and if at another time once all this has settled maybe we can..." Marie began.

"Then take me off the record. Say I went rogue, I can finish this on my own," you declared. "There is genuinely something here, I just need more time to find it. Please...."

"[Y/N], no. I'm sorry. I genuinely wish there was more that could be done, but we cannot risk the whole company on one case. I will be sure to compensate you for your and Sam's time when you come back."

"Marie, please..."

"I will email you the tickets for Friday," she replied simply, and all you could do was nod.

"Alright," you murmured, and you hated how easily you felt like you had caved.

You hung up the phone, Sam meeting your eyes with concern and you felt your chest tighten.

"Marie dropped the case. We...we're headed back home on Friday," you murmured.

"Oh," Sam retorted more calmly than you expected. "Is that all?"

"Yes?" You replied uncertainly.

"So we find it on our own," Sam replied with a shrug. "No problem."

"Sam, we can't pursue this. We won't have any money to keep going, and if Marie finds out I went behind her back..."

"So she doesn't find out," Sam retorted as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "I'm not gonna tell."

"Sam, I could lose everything I've worked for. You don't have anything at stake, you can't possibly..." you began.

"So get another job once this is over."

"Yeah, really, it's that simple Sam. I...I worked too hard to get here, I can't just..."

He pressed his lips to your forehead.

"Then I'm officially hiring you to work for Victor Andrew Sullivan and Samuel Christopher Drake. We need a researcher around," he declared. "Simple."

"Sam, she's gonna blacklist me if I go against her, and you too for working with me. There will be no clients."

"I can live without them," Sam replied with a shrug. "Besides, there are always those that are a little less legitimate to work for...there's always work there..."

"Sam, you being a damn criminal got us into this mess, I'm not gonna..." you began.

"We are so damn close to finding this," Sam murmured as he leaned in close. "You can feel it too, I know that."

Sam's mouth hovered close to yours.

"Sometimes you just need to take the leap and damn the consequences," Sam breathed.

"And if I fail and fall?" You asked gently.

"Haven't you realized it yet?" Sam asked with a chuckle. "I'm never gonna let you fall. Turns out I care about ya too much. Kinda sickening, actually."

Your stomach twisted itself into knots as you thought about what could happen if you agreed. How Marie could make your life a living hell with a phrase or a motion of her hand.

Except you thought about what could happen if you walked. If you went back to Marie, how you might regret leaving all this when you were so damn close because you were a coward.

"Fuck it," you muttered before you tugged him down and closed the distance.

He chuckled against your mouth, lifting you up in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

"So you're in?" He murmured against your lips.

"I'm fucked either way. Might as well go out with a nice bang," you replied.

"That an innuendo?" Sam teased, and you ground against his crotch causing him to let out a delicious groan.

"Perhaps," you replied, meeting his mouth again with yours. "So...wanna finish what we started?"

Sam grinned, deepening the kiss as he held you close.

You barely made it into the doorway of the guest room before Sam slid down the final barrier between you, his fingers tracing and teasing until you could barely think of anything.

You had no clue how you two were able to make it into the bed at all. It was worth it though. Gloriously so.

It was perhaps the only thing you found yourself not wondering if you'd regret eventually.


	7. Allies and Clientele

You had not realized how much energy you'd been focusing on denying the fact you felt something for Sam until you awoke the next morning finding your head clearer than it had been in a long time.

You glanced over to see Sam still passed out, and you smiled to yourself before you pressed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He let out a sleepy groan and you smiled to yourself, beginning to slip out of bed when you felt a calloused hand catch your wrist.

"Ah ah ah, not quite finished with you yet," he murmured sleepily, and you shook your head fondly as he tugged you back into bed.

You barely had time to open your mouth before he met it with his, his hand cupping your cheek.

He peppered kisses down your neck, his hand trailing down your side and you were beginning to wonder why you wanted to get out of bed in the first place.

Until you remembered the papers still in the living room, the research you still needed to do and you let out a small groan of frustration.

Sam took this to be encouragement, his mouth going further and further down your frame and you knew you had to stop him.

"Sam...I....I have to...." you began as his mouth got dangerously close to its intended destination and he chuckled.

"Let yourself relax. I know, I was thinking the same thing," Sam retorted, and you rolled your eyes as your cell phone began to ring.

You bolted upright in bed, your stomach plummeting as you disentangled yourself from Sam and grabbed the nearest shirt, tossing it on and practically sprinting into the living room.

"What, you think she's gonna care if you don't answer after the first ring?" Sam called out. "I mean, you don't even work for her anymore...."

"Hello?" You answered the call, expecting to hear Marie on the other end. To have to lie and say you were staying in Paris for a bit to take a vacation, and hope she would believe you.

"Hello, is this [Y/N]?" An unfamiliar voice asked, and you frowned in confusion.

"This is she," you retorted.

"I was told by Marie to get in contact with you? Concerning Les Chats du Guerre?" The man asked in an Edinburgh brogue.

"You...I'm sorry, I wasn't informed about any of this. I was under the impression we had dropped the case," you replied honestly, and the man laughed.

"I should hope not. I've put a lot of money into finding this supposed treasure," the man retorted. "Sorry. I'm Adam Ferguson."

Ferguson? Why did you feel like you knew that name?

"Marie already told me you'd be settling things back in Paris before you'd come back to Montreal, but I thought I should talk to you before then," Adam continued. "I, uhh, need you to get me something before you leave."

"What do you need?" You asked in interest.

"It's, uhh, a diary. Well it's supposed to be a diary, I think. Grandpa didn't exactly specify in his journal what Joan used," Adam seemed to speak more to himself than you.

"Wait, Grandpa?" You asked.

"My grandfather was...well at least I think he was, intimately involved with Joan of Les Chats. I have his side of the story, but not hers."

"I'm not sure how much I can find in a few days," you replied as Sam sauntered into the room, no shirt and his jeans resting low on his hips.

God help us all.

"Well whatever you can. We can always go back to search for it. If you want I can still send you pages of the journal that might help?" Adam replied.

"Uhh, sure. Sure sounds good. Thanks," you retorted.

"See you in a few days [Y/N]," he countered before he hung up.

Well that didn't throw a wrench into the plan to just sneak off.

"Who was that?" Sam asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. "Another man who you're stringing along?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely. Got all sorts of men waiting in the wings for me," you replied with a smirk. "You're lucky you got me, Sam."

"I'm starting to get that impression," he countered before he lifted you up, your legs going around his waist instinctively.

You leaned in, your mouth meeting his and he let out a contented hum that made you chuckle.

You pulled away, your forehead resting against his and you felt a calloused hand slide up your side and into your hair, pushing some of it behind your ear.

"Sam?" You asked as you leaned back slightly, and he nodded. "Have you heard of someone called Adam Ferguson?"

"His family owns the whisky company, Ferguson Finest. Why?" Sam asked as he frowned.

"Marie...she didn't drop the case," you began tentatively. "She just...well she gave it to the person that could pay her upfront."

Sam tensed completely and you took that as your cue to disentangle yourself from his arms, awkwardly climbing down to get back onto the floor.

"And she wants you to work with him?" Sam asked, and you nodded as you crossed your arms. "So lie and say and you can't take the job."

"Sam, it's...look we have to play our cards carefully at the moment," you replied and Sam frowned. "We can't just do your thing, rushing in guns blazing and think we'll turn out alright."

"So what's your idea then?" Sam asked, crossing his arms.

"I..I don't know, actually," you admitted. "Maybe I should. Work with him, I mean."

Sam's frown deepened and you felt your stomach sink with it.

"What about us?" He asked as he uncrossed his arms, and you sighed.

"That's not gonna change, Sam," you murmured as you stepped forward, reaching up and resting your hand on his cheek. "We're finding this treasure. Together. We just...can't be so apparent about it."

Sam frowned, though he leaned into your touch and it made you smile, your thumb stroking along his weathered cheek.

"Besides, we still need Marie's resources."

Sam did not look pleased, but he closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh before he nodded.

"Who am I to deny a beautiful woman?" He retorted as he opened his eyes, sporting a charming grin, and you laughed before you stood on your tiptoes, your mouth meeting his for a brief but lovely moment.

You set your feet back down, releasing his cheek before you stepped back.

"So what's the plan for all this?" Sam asked, and you smiled.

"First off, we need to get you a decent suit," you retorted. "Thank God we're in the fashion capital of the world."

"I have a decent suit," Sam countered, and you grinned.

"Not decent enough for what we're planning to do."

\----------------------///---------------------------

You sipped your champagne nervously as your eyes scanned the room, watching members of Marie's staff and potential clients mingling together.

It was her annual gala in London, where potential investors could bid on artifacts and the like, while potential clients could do the same with her staff.

You'd glanced over what information you could gather on Adam Ferguson, most of it to do with the manifesto of his father's company.

Adam stayed out of the tabloids, surprisingly, hardly a scandalous article in sight concerning him. You wondered if that was a good sign or a bad one.

After all, from what Sam had told you Rafe had seemed normal on paper and then turned out to be psychotic.

So yeah. You were a little nervous.

You felt someone grasp your elbow lightly and you jumped, causing a familiar chuckle.

"Only me," Sam murmured, his hands rubbing your bars arms before he kissed the side of your head. "No sign of Adam yet?"

You shook your head as you turned around, taking in the well-tailored suit and coiffed hair.

You had him scrubbed and polished until he was barely recognizable, and you were secretly grateful you were already together because otherwise...well, how gorgeous he looked would have been very, very distracting.

"Remember, don't try to bid on anything. The less people notice you the better," you ordered, and he saluted a little causing you to giggle.

You glanced around before you took his hand, placing a small kiss on the palm before you squeezed it comfortingly.

"See you on the other side," you murmured, Sam's lips brushing against your knuckles before he released your hand.

"Be careful, alright?" Sam retorted, and you nodded as he walked away.

"You too."

You prayed Sam was a better thief than he had proven to be in Paris. You needed him to steal those case files quietly, and part of you wished you could be with him to help.

But you had a reputation to uphold, and if you were gone Marie would certainly notice.

"[Y/N]?" someone asked in a Scottish brogue, and you smoothed down your dress before you turned to face the speaker.

You weren't quite sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't someone who aptly fit the description of 'tall, dark and handsome'.

He looked barely in his thirties, black hair styled just so with his suit fitting him gorgeously.

You suddenly understood why a woman like Joan, who seemed to be practical in every manner of her business, would risk it all on some solider.

You could also understand why Marie was so keen to have his business. If you weren't the expert in World War I she probably would have snatched him for herself.

"It's nice to finally put a face to a name," Adam declared warmly, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Likewise," you retorted with a polite nod, trying not to linger on his features. Failing miserably, but trying nonetheless.

"So, found anything concerning Joan?" Adam asked as he snatched a drink off of a passing tray, and you shook your head. "Thought you were supposed to be one of the better researchers."

You were about to protest when you saw a certain twinkle in his eyes, and you realized he was teasing you. You laughed a little.

"You didn't exactly give me much time," you replied, and he laughed a little.

You weren't sure how much you should tell him if you and Sam were still going to pursue this. On the one hand, the less Adam thought you had the better, it would give Sam and you the advantage.

But on the other, it felt....wrong, to lie to a client who was likely paying good money for you to help him. And he seemed decent, though he could just be acting polite for the sake of appearances.

God knew you'd dealt with that type before.

"I know Joan was working with her cousins in a smuggling ring, that's about it," you decided to tell him, and he nodded.

"Well, we have some time to find out more," he replied with a small grin, looking over your shoulder before he grinned a little wider. "Would you mind if we discussed this later?"

You frowned in confusion at his sudden departure, nodding curtly as you watched him slip past and approach Marie. You watched her smile get a little softer as she spoke to him, Adam's hand on her wrist as he inspected her bracelet. His touch seemed gentle and almost tender.

"Guess she only cares about mixing work with pleasure when it's her staff doing it," a familiar voice stated with a laugh.

"A rule she only had to instil after you came along, as I remember," you declared as you looked over to Clarke with a smirk.

"Correlation does not equal causation, my dear," he retorted, and you snorted.

"Such an academic," you replied, and he shrugged.

"Old habits," he retorted as he faced you fully, you mirroring the action. "So. Thought you were in Paris hunting down Les Chats du Guerre with our favourite adventurer."

"That was before Marie screwed him over," you said before you realized it, and your eyes widened in panic at the slip.

"Yeah, well, highest bidder gets the prize," Clarke retorted as he sipped scotch from a tumbler in his hand. "Especially if they're screwing the boss and bringing some of their family's liquid gold."

You watched Adam and Marie shamelessly flirt, and you wondered if you and Sam looked like that. Christ, you hoped you weren't that obvious, otherwise this whole thing could go into flames before you could snuff it out.

"Nice to know he doesn't give up easily," Clarke continued, finishing his scotch before he set the glass on a nearby table.

"So he flirted until he got what he wanted?" You asked with a laugh before you sipped your champagne, and Clarke shook his head.

"I meant Samuel Drake," he retorted, and your throat constricted, causing you to begin to cough. Clarke looked at you in concern and you gave him a reassuring nod.

"He's here tonight?" You asked in mock surprise, hoping it sounded genuine.

"Well of course he is," Clarke replied as the band Marie had hired for began to play, a classic piece that reminded you of long boring nights you had to spend sitting beside rich clients who decided to 'reward' you for your services by taking you to dull classical concerts. "You brought him, after all."

You met his eyes, not even trying to conceal your panic when he offered you his hand.

"I think it's time we shared a dance, don't you?" He asked, your heart thudding in your ears as you clasped his hand. You didn't have much choice in the matter, you were screwed however you decided to play this.

Thankfully he was able to lead expertly, the two of you spinning and dancing elegantly as you two spoke.

"Whatever you two are planning, I want in,” Clarke murmured into your ear as he pulled you close, and out of the corner of you saw Sam look at you questioningly.

You risked looking back at him, giving him a quick nod and he frowned, turning on his heel and slipping out of a nearby door.

Well that was just fantastic.

“You have nothing to gain though," you answered Clarke, leaning back and meeting his eyes.

He grinned, spinning you out before he pulled you back in again, and if you weren't so terrified you might have laughed.

“I’ve got nothing to lose either, do I?” he retorted.

"Your job, for one," you countered. "You know Marie is going to blacklist you if you go against her wishes."

And we can't trust you won't go behind our backs, and tell her what we're doing.

"That's not going to be a concern for much longer," Clarke replied, and you looked at him in confusion. "Anton Antiquities is going bust."

"What?"

"Oh yeah. We've been losing money for the past year. Old clients are starting to get sued by museums and historical associations for damages done to 'priceless artifacts' and specific sites, and they're looking to make her the scapegoat," Clarke explained as you spun around together. "Ferguson and this gala are her desperate attempts to cling on for a bit longer. I think she's hoping if she makes enough on him and whatever investors are left we can keep the business running."

"And you want to help it sink by jumping ship?" You asked with a frown, and Clarke sighed.

"My gut says I shouldn't, but my mind says I should. And I've learned that me following my gut instincts tends to end with me standing under a church with a fake gun pointed at a grad student and a former thief," Clarke declared as the song ended.

"You forgot about the part where you got your heart broken," you retorted, and he smiled sadly.

"Unfortunately, I didn't," he replied softly, releasing you. He clasped your hand. "And I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did."

"What is that supposed to mean?" You asked with a frown.

"I think we both knew after that moment under the church, where the two of you had to maneuver that floor how everything was going to end," Clarke declared as he released your hand. "Take my advice: if you're going to do this, don't do it for him."

You didn't have a response to that as Clarke stepped back.

"If you don't want my assistance with the case, it's fine. I understand perfectly," Clarke declared as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his expensive suit. "You have no reason to trust me."

Clarke glanced over at his cousin and sighed.

"But if you're going against Marie, you're going to need allies. Especially those that are still in contact with professors of the World Wars more than happy to help a former postgrad student."

You followed his gaze, Marie looking at the pair of you now.

"And as a gesture of good faith," Clarke declared as he leaned in close, his mouth next to your ear. "Room 12, box 5, file 11."

He squeezed your hand before he walked away, and you must have looked stunned because Marie was smiling as she approached.

"Should I be concerned?" She teased, and you only shook your head, watching Clarke down another drink. He glanced back at you and then Marie, nodding to you before he slipped out of the room.

"Not in the slightest," you murmured, meeting her eyes for a moment. "Actually, I think I need to step outside for a few minutes. You know how I get sometimes in crowds."

Marie nodded sympathetically, patting your shoulder and it made you feel worse for what you were planning to do.

You maneuvered your way through the crowd, your heels clicking against the floor as you slipped out the doorway, your eyes scanning the hallway for any sign of Sam.

You found him at the end of the hallway, suit jacket on the floor as he appeared to be trying to pick the lock on a door. You slipped off your heels, holding them in one hand as you approached.

He barely looked up, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he worked the lock of Room 12, and when you both heard an audible click you grinned.

"You just might be useful after all," you teased as he opened the door. Instead of responding he tugged you inside, the door slamming shut behind you plunging the pair of you into darkness.

"Get the light would ya?" Sam ordered, and you complied, revealing a simple office with a few boxes stashed under the desk. "Alright, so we just need to sort through these..."

You pulled out box 5, opening it and searching through it quickly for file 11. Sam watched you in surprise as you pulled out the thick folder, opening it quickly.

It appeared to be a complete copy of Adam Ferguson's grandfather's journal, and you grinned to yourself.

"Thanks Clarke," you murmured to yourself, and Sam frowned.

"For what?" Sam asked as you stood up, handing him the file.

"Clarke wants in, apparently. Says that Anton Antiquities is sinking faster than the Titanic and he's willing to help us," you replied.

"Us or you?" Sam asked as he looked through the folder.

"What...." you began, Sam meeting your eyes and you sighed. "He...it was the easiest way to talk to me privately without Marie coming over."

"Was it?" Sam retorted with a cocked eyebrow. "Couldn't get you into a separate room could he?"

"Not without looking suspicious," you countered, and Sam looked skeptical. "Sam, while the overt route might work for you and your brother, the rest of us need to use subversion to get ahead."

"Uh huh," Sam retorted as he crossed his arms, and you rolled your eyes in frustration before you tugged him down by the lapels of his shirt.

Your mouth collided with his forcefully, and within moments his hands were on your hips as you deepened the kiss, pulling away just as he seemed to be getting into it.

"Samuel Drake, let's get one thing clear right now. I waited two fucking years for you to come to your damn senses," you declared. "There hasn't been anyone else. There won't be anyone else. Got it?"

He looked genuinely stunned before he grinned a little.

"Remind me to piss you off more often," he murmured, and you rolled your eyes again, though affectionately this time.

"Sam, if you don't want Clarke's help because of everything that's happened, it's fine. He already said there's no hard feelings if we go on without him," you replied, stroking his cheek. "But....he's kinda right. We need allies. And...well, he's not the worst option."

Sam frowned as he leaned back.

"Listen. He has access to Marie's files, more than I could ever hope to have," you explained. "And he's always watched my back for these two years. Think he still feels guilty about what happened in Newfoundland, trying to make it up to me."

Sam didn't look pleased in the slightest, but his thumb stroked across your cheek affectionately.

"Your choice if you want to let him in," you continued.

Sam pursed his lips before he spoke.

"I get to bring Sullivan back," he declared, and you nodded. "And if there is even a slight chance that Clarke screws you over, I get to knock Clarke's lights out. No questions. Alright?"

"Fair enough," you replied, standing on your toes and kissing Sam's cheek. "I'll go tell him the good news."

You removed yourself from Sam's arms, and you only took a few steps before Sam tugged you back in, his hands resting on your neck gently.

"I mean it. Bloodied nose, black eyes, broken bones. The whole bit," Sam told you solemnly, and you stroked his arm with your thumb as you held it.

"Careful there Sam. People might think you like me or something," you teased.

"You think?" He replied, his mouth hovering over yours, meeting yours as he said the next word against your lips. "Good."

Huh. You never thought some guy being so overprotective would be...kinda hot. You'd have to set him straight though. You could manage on your own if necessary.

But...yeah. Yeah, it was nice to know he had your back.

Let's hope Clarke could do the same for you.

Otherwise you were about to be royally and thoroughly screwed over.


	8. Important Discussions

Sam Drake wasn't gonna lie. If he was on his own searching for this treasure, he never would have selected Clarke Baker as an ally.

Call him a traditionalist, but he found it hard to trust someone who had once held a gun to his head. Even if it had turned out to be fake.

[Y/N], surprisingly, didn't appear to have the same qualms. She was only too happy to work with the former university professor, rarely found without him whenever Sam and her spoke nowadays.

If they spoke to each other, [Y/N] too busy trying to appease Adam Ferguson and his whims, usually resulting in Sam speaking to Clarke on his own.

It was one of the rare instances where [Y/N] wasn't at the beck and call of Ferguson, Clarke apparently gone at some business meeting that he had explained with long sighs and eye rolls that made [Y/N] pat his back with a small chuckle.

[Y/N] was all business, trying to give Sam as much information as possible in the limited amount of time they could speak, onslaughts of information about thieves turned soldiers, Ferguson's grandfather's involvement as a runner for as well as lover of Joan...and all Sam could seem to focus on was the glint in her eyes and the wideness of her grin.

"I miss you," he blurted with a long sigh, causing her to stop. Her eyes softened along with her smile.

"Can't say the same for you," she retorted. "Things have been going quite well without you around. You know, it's nice not to be working beside someone I'm always terrified will get himself into trouble."

"You are cruel sweetheart, and I am wounded," he replied with his hand over his heart. "I will have you know I have not been arrested once since coming back to Paris."

"Yeah, because Sully's there to set you straight," [Y/N] retorted.

"Clearly you don't know him as well as I do," Sam countered with a laugh, watching her tuck her hair behind her ear as she laughed with him. "I mean it. Miss ya babe."

"You going soft on me Drake?" She teased. "That can't be good for your reputation."

"Well maybe you're worth it. Ever considered that?" He retorted, and she looked surprised. "What?"

"Oh. Sorry, no I just...." she began before she stopped. "Adam said he looked like his grandpa. Didn't believe it till now."

"You're working on the case?" Sam asked with a frown.

"Multi-tasking," she replied quieter than before, her eyes darting as she was clearly reading something.

"[Y/N]?" Sam asked, and there was no response. "[Y/N]? You listenin'?"

She barely looked at him, absorbed in what she was reading.

Desperate times, desperate measures it seemed.

"Think you'd be that focused if I was there?"

No response.

"Under your desk....head between your legs as I tugged down your jeans...."

Still no response, her eyes focused on the screen.

"Pulling down your underwear...."

Nothing.

"Parting your legs further, running my finger up and down just how you like it..."

Zilch.

"Before I'd use my tongue, slowly tracing and you'd start to lose focus..."

Nada.

"Oh, and then I'd find that spot. You know the one, and you'd be gripping the desk, trying to focus but failing miserably..."

Still reading. Sam wished he had that kind of intensity. It would be impressive if it wasn't so damn frustrating.

"And then I'd truly get to work, and you'd make those noises until the only thing you'd be able to think about is my name..."

She rested her cheek in her hand.

"Your legs shaking, your breath getting shallow, gasping out my name like you're praying to God for salvation...."

And...no response.

"And then I'd withdraw. Have you begging and I wouldn't do another damn thing," he declared angrily, and she finally looked at him.

"I...I think I'm starting to understand how you got all those women to sleep with you," she murmured, and he noticed her cheeks had gone red.

"You were paying attention," Sam replied gently, his anger dissipating and she laughed.

"There a reason I wouldn't?" She asked with a small chuckle. "I mean, you say things like that and think I'm not gonna notice?"

"You didn't say anything," Sam replied.

"I...I genuinely had no response," she countered with a small giggle. "And I'd feel weird if I started making breathy moans or something. Besides, if Clarke walked in I'd be mortified."

"But you liked it?" Sam replied, a smirk already on his features.

"Nah. It was awful. Doesn't make me want to fly over to Paris and see if you can put that mouth to use besides being a smart-ass at ALL."

She rested her head in her hands and sighed.

"How goes your search anyways?" She asked gently, and he shrugged.

"It goes," he retorted, causing a small smile to bloom on her features. "Y'know, chasing down leads, finding pieces to the next clue, the usual."

"Anything of interest?" She asked, and he shook his head.

"Thought we found a logbook of Joan's," Sam replied with a frown. "But it turned out to just be a record of the brothel itself. Interesting, but not quite what we wanted."

[Y/N] chuckled before she gave him a fond smile.

"Well we're bound to find something eventually right?" She replied hopefully, and Sam nodded.

"Got confidence you'll give me what I need kid," Sam retorted, and a strange look came over [Y/N]'s features. "What? Find something?"

"Sorry. It's just...I don't think you've called me kid for two years," she replied softly. She laughed a little. "God, I used to hate that."

"You did?" Sam asked with a frown.

"Duh, Sam. I wanted you to view me as a woman, not some girl," [Y/N] retorted with a small smile.

"Well that's no longer a problem is it?" Sam countered as he leaned in a little, a smirk on his features.

When [Y/N] didn't really laugh, Sam frowned again.

"You knew I meant it as a term of affection though," Sam continued almost defensively.

"Nah, you probably just couldn't pronounce my name," [Y/N] joked, and Sam grinned. "I...I knew you didn't mean anything by it."

She sighed.

"Perhaps that was the problem," she muttered as she stood up, walking over to her bookshelf and pulling something down.

She came back to the laptop, a worn journal in her hands, running her fingers over the surface as she sat down.

"Straight from Newfoundland on the Drake express," she declared with a chuckle.

She opened the journal with a small smile.

"You'd think the oxidation would eat away at the pages after being kept in the open for two years," she murmured.

"You kept one of the journals?" Sam asked in surprise. "Thought you donated all of them."

"Sentimental," she replied before she shook her head. "I nearly threw this out, actually."

She laughed to herself.

"I just...I found out you went back to Abbie, after everything and I just...Christ, I hated you for it. For picking her again," she murmured before she laughed. "When I could treat you so much better, right?"

She looked at him.

"Why did you go back, anyways?" She asked.

Sam pursed his lips, running his hand through his hair in embarrassment.

"Let's just say she used what she had at her advantage and I still liked the view," he retorted with a chuckle.

"So your adoration of her?" [Y/N] asked, holding the journal in her hands, and Sam snorted.

"Nah. That would be noble," Sam replied with an embarrassed grin. "No, I just...uh...yeah. View was nice."

Sam scratched at the stubble on his cheek.

[Y/N] nodded for him to continue, but he shrugged.

"That's it."

"Especially when she walked away?" She risked asking, Sam snorted again.

"No, uhhh, that would be me again," Sam replied with a shrug. "What can I say? Views only get you so far and there were other cases I wanted to do."

"You...you broke her heart?" [Y/N] asked softly, and Sam shook his head.

"Nah. At least...well we still talk so I think if I did she moved on from it," Sam replied with a grin, though [Y/N] did not mirror it.

[Y/N] looked troubled and he frowned.

"What's wrong?" He asked, but she only shook her head and sighed.

"I, uhh, I actually need to go. Adam will probably want me to look at some more things for tomorrow," [Y/N] declared.

"So soon?" Sam asked, and she nodded. She still looked troubled. "[Y/N], wait."

She looked at him, and there was a certain glimmer to her eyes as she swiped at them.

"What is it babe?" Sam asked, and she shook her head. "C'mon. Tell ol Sammy what's wrong, hmm?"

"Not that old," she replied gently with a weak smile.

He looked at her expectantly, but she didn't appear to want to continue.

"Adam isn't riding you too hard?" Sam asked, and she shook her head.

"If he was you'd knock his lights out," she replied quietly, and Sam grimaced at the joke.

"And Clarke hasn't done anything right?" Sam asked. "'Cause I'm willing to go through with that promise."

"Clarke's fine, Sam," she replied gently.

"Is...is this about Abbie?" Sam asked, and she nodded. "Why?"

"You're not that dense Sam," she reminded him, but he only shrugged. "I'm...Sam, I don't want you to just appreciate the scenery again."

"I wasn't planning to," Sam replied with a shrug. "Paris is beautiful, but it's nothing compared to you."

"Sam, please," she replied instead of laughing at the cheesy one-liner. "Be serious for once."

"What's the fun in that?" Sam asked with a smirk, and she shook her head. "Alright. Alright. Look. I like you. You like me. I say, we let this run its course and see where things go."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked sharply, and he held up his hands defensively.

"Nothing. I'm just saying...this is fun. You're just...Christ," Sam declared. "We've got something. We can agree on that. Right?"

She didn't respond.

"C'mon [Y/N], we do," Sam continued. "I just...we've known each other like...well, this for only a little bit. This...this isn't about...y'know, that."

He put emphasis on the last word and [Y/N] looked...crestfallen. She swiped at her eyes angrily and when he opened his mouth to ask she looked at the camera with such intensity he couldn't get out the words.

"I'll send you the address for the place where they supposedly had a place for storing and sorting the goods," she declared as she wiped her eyes. "Also might not be best to contact me for a few days. Adam's getting suspicious. I'll...I'll let you know when it's safe to talk again."

"[Y/N], wait..." Sam began as she hung up. "Shit."

"Well you certainly didn't screw that up," a familiar voice declared suddenly, and Sam looked over in surprise to see Sullivan standing there with a few grocery bags.

"How long have you been there?" Sam asked as Sully set the bags down.

"Luckily not for anything she'll be too embarrassed to look me in the eye for," Sully retorted as he sorted through the bags. It was mostly booze and cheap dinners, typical fare for the pair of them.

Sully didn't say anything for a few moments, still going through everything before he spoke.

"You even like her?" Sully asked, and Sam frowned.

"Course I do..."

"Then take my advice: act like it. Seen this before, and I'm too old to watch another Drake pine over some girl for too long before he got his head out of his ass," Sully declared.

"Like you know a lot about the subject," Sam retorted with a laugh.

Sully lit a cigar, chewing on the tip.

"Know what it means when a woman looks at you like that."

Sam scoffed and shook his head.

"She doesn't look at me like anything," Sam replied.

"You sure about that?" Sully asked, drawing in a deep lungful of cigar smoke.

Sam didn't respond.

Because in all honesty...he wasn't sure in the slightest.

Some might even argue he was in over his head.

\-----------------------///--------------------------

You had to give Marie kudos for one thing. She wanted her employees to be in peak condition and made sure to offer them the best equipment possible to do so.

You'd tried the shooting range once or twice since you started working here, but most of your cases were not of the dangerous variety.

You slipped on the earphones, placing on the glasses and picked up the gun.

Well. Might as well start now, knowing the type of trouble Sam got himself into.

Not that you really wanted to even look at the bastard at the moment.

You'd been a freaking idiot, thinking that whatever was happening between the two of you meant something to him.

You won't be like the others. Yeah right.

You fired off a few shots, hitting the outer rings and you stumbled at the recoil.

You took aim again, firing off a few more shots and they were still in the outer rings.

Well you guessed practice made perfect.

You set down the gun, clicking on the safety as you looked around the room.

Most of the others appeared to be hitting close to the centre of the target, and you didn't notice someone was behind you until they tapped your shoulder.

You jumped, slipping off the earphones and Clarke looked at you apologetically.

"You ran off after the last meeting with Adam. Wanted to talk to you about a few things," he declared.

You nodded, motioning for him to stand back before you slipped the earphones back on.

You finished off the last of the bullets, still on the edges and you sighed as you put back the gear.

"Should I be concerned by the sudden interest in guns?" Clarke teased, and you shook your head. "What? No quips?"

"Not really in the mood," you replied honestly as you followed Clarke out of the room.

The taxi over to his apartment was a quiet one, you on your phone deliberately trying to make yourself look busy while Clarke appeared to be texting someone.

Clarke had been lucky, a lot of the money from his professorship kept in savings, more than enough to afford a flat in Montreal.

Despite what he told you two years ago, Marie still had not gotten rid of him once you came on, giving him a sizeable income.

You stroked the fur of his cat Maple sitting by the door when you came in, chuckling when she hopped down and rubbed up against your leg.

"Hi to you too," Clarke declared sarcastically when she all but hopped into your lap as you sat down on the sofa.

"She just happens to like me better," you declared with a playful grin, and Clarke frowned.

"You don't even feed her and she loves you more than me," Clarke declared, causing you to laugh.

"Well you know I'm part cat, so..." you retorted, and Clarke chuckled. "So what was it you wanted to talk about? I mean, I know we plan to pass on the information to Sa-him...I mean once we have enough..."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your little boyfriend there," Clarke declared, and your stomach plummeted. "Correct me if I'm wrong...but you've gone from mentioning him constantly to barely being able to say his name."

You didn't respond.

"It's been two weeks. What's going on?" Clarke asked.

You refused to look at Clarke, stroking Maple quietly.

"You two have a lover's spat or something?" Clarke asked as he got you some water.

"To be lovers he'd have to say he even loved me in the first place," you replied bitterly as you took the bottle of water, and Clarke's eyes widened.

"Oh. That," he replied simply, not elaborating.

"What do you mean, 'oh, that'?" You asked as you met his eyes.

Clarke scratched the back of his neck.

"Well...sorry, I'm just...not really that surprised?"

You looked at him sharply as he took a swig of water from his own bottle. He leaned against the counter of the open kitchen and sighed.

"He's a bit of an open book when it comes to his, err, preferences in terms of companionship," Clarke elaborated.

"So you're saying I'm an idiot for thinking he wasn't gonna do the same thing to me as the rest?" You asked sharply.

"You're in love with him. You can be excused for not having the most accurate view of him," Clarke retorted. "Trust me, been there."

Clarke chuckled.

"Though I don't think Sam will stab you in the back like Abbie did to me. Or hand, in my case."

He still bore the scar from what she had done to him and you rubbed your shoulder instinctively.

The pair of you literally bearing scars from the people you loved. Poetic in more ways than one.

"You still love her?" You asked, and Clarke laughed.

"No. God no, not after what she did to me," Clarke retorted with a grin. "I like my women to be fiery, but she was a little much."

"Maybe you should just settle down with a nice girl and you won't have all these problems," you retorted.

"Or boy. Men can be quite nice too," Clarke replied, and you snickered.

"Yes, like that historian. What was his name? Robbie?" You teased, and Clarke shook his head gravely.

"We don't talk about him."

You chuckled, Clarke walking over and sitting beside you on the sofa causing Maple to jump down.

"[Y/N], if you want the advice of an old man..." Clarke began.

"You're not that old," you retorted instinctively.

"Old enough," he countered. "Don't keep doing this if you're only in it for Samuel. I'm fine with passing on information and you just working for Adam. If you still want to help Samuel, of course."

"Course I do. I might not...be happy with him, but I made him a promise."

Clarke laughed.

"You're a better person than I was. Alright, so, what do you say? You work with Adam, I work with Samuel, and may the person who deserves the treasure gets it."

"Oh, so you?" You countered, and he smiled. "No..no I'm fine, I..."

You sighed.

"Actually, I'm not. I think if I see the bastard I'm just going to feel awful. You...you really don't mind working with him? Considering your history?"

"You mean the fact we both screwed the same woman? Nah," Clarke retorted. "It's in the past. Besides, he's not too bad on the eyes..."

You whacked Clarke's arm and he chuckled.

"So...you want to tell him or should I?" Clarke asked, and you sighed.

"I don't know. It should be me, but...I don't know if I can do it."

Clarke squeezed your hand.

"I'll be there with you. I swear. You can count on me."

You looked at your cell phone, at the contact info for Sam Drake and you sighed.

Tomorrow, after work. You'd tell him then. Just get it all out in the open.

It would be the best way to settle things once and for all. And then you could do what you originally intended, treat this like any other case.

Your cell phone rang and you frowned, seeing that Adam was calling.

When you answered you were treated to an onslaught of information, spoken quickly and excitedly in a Scottish accent and you would have laughed if the information wasn't important.

Apparently he had come across something in his grandfather's journal about a region of Belgium where the Lark and the Dove used a few soldiers to run their operations, and he wanted to chase the lead.

As in, he wanted to leave tonight to go to Belgium.

You looked at Clarke as you hung up the phone.

"Do you want to tell Sam or me that we're going to Belgium?"

Clarke must have sensed the hesitation in your voice.

"I'll text him. If that's what you want."

You nodded, watching him send the message and you prayed Sam wouldn't call you before you left.

You left Clarke's apartment to go get your things from your own apartment, letting him know you would be back in an hour.

Within two hours you were on a private jet, being served all sorts of drinks and delicious food as Adam excitedly explained his plans to the pair of you.

You had no clue how you had convinced him to bring Clarke along, but regardless the three of you sat in that plane discussing your next steps.

Once Adam had gone off to bed Clarke showed you the recording he had made of the conversation to send off to Sam.

You closed your eyes and nodded.

You hoped Sam would get there first without the extra help so you could be done with this whole thing.

And then you could actually get the closure you needed.

You smiled to yourself a little.

Life had really been much simpler without Sam Drake in it.

You were kinda looking forward to that fate.


	9. Different Notions

Sam had done a lot of impulsive things in his time and thought little of it, but even he thought this was a bit much.

Sully had stayed back in Paris, working with James and Timothy to pour through what they already had.

Sam had taken a midnight flight to Belgium to track down [Y/N].

He had not heard from her for weeks since the moment he had told her that he didn't want to pursue anything serious with her.

He wasn't completely oblivious, he knew he had deeply upset her. But he didn't think she would shut him out.

He'd only been talking to Clarke for weeks now, and every time he tried to ask how [Y/N] was doing. He wasn't even subtle about it, something that seemed to greatly amuse Clarke.

It wasn't only to smooth things out that he came to Belgium. Based on what James had said about the battlefields of the First World War, Belgium had been a hotbed of activity. If Les Chats were looking for soldiers, they would certainly find them there.

So he found a cheap hotel, got himself set up and went searching for something that might lead to the treasure.

Which was how he had ended up here, ball cap pulled low over his eyes as he wandered through the historical site of the Battle of Passchendaele.

James had some theories that with all the thick mud that defined the horror of that battle, something would have sunk through at a certain point.

Though the possibilities of him finding anything of use close to the surface was slim, time certainly against him.

And it wasn't like he could bring a shovel and start digging. Well, not during the day anyways. And especially when he had no clue where to look in the first place.

He heard a trio of voices, two of them very familiar and he tensed.

He slipped into the crowd gathered around a tour guide, barely listening as he watched Clarke and Adam walking along, appearing to be laughing and smiling.

[Y/N] trailed behind them, her nose in some small journal before she would glance up every so often so as not to bump into anyone.

If Sam could time this right he could get her alone for a few minutes and ask her what was going on.

Not that he was certain she wanted to speak to him. But it was worth a shot, wasn't it?

He purposely made his way through the tourists as she stopped, flipping through the journal in her hands and he glanced over at Clarke and Adam.

The pair were talking with a tour guide, Clarke looking like he was trying to charm her and she appeared quite receptive, giggling a little.

He took a few strides forward, heart thudding in his ears. If he did this wrong...well, he wasn't looking forward to the consequences.

He walked towards her, playing the part of the oblivious tourists before he purposely bumped into her to knock the journal from her hands.

It careened towards the ground and Sam knelt down, somehow able to catch it before it hit the ground.

"You should be more careful babe," he declared with a small chuckle as he held it out to her.

[Y/N] looked thankful until she recognized him, her features transforming into something unrecognizable to him.

She all but snatched the journal from his hand, barely looking at him as she glanced over to Adam and Clarke.

Adam seemed to be absorbed in chatting with the tour guide, but Clarke looked like he was looking for [Y/N] when she wasn't with them.

"So you got Clarke's message," she declared coolly, and he smirked.

"And yet I've heard nothing from you. If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to ignore me for some reason...."

She didn't laugh or even crack a smile.

"I've just been busy, Sam. That's all," she replied simply, glancing over at Adam before she crossed her arms. "You should go before he sees you."

Sam glanced over at Adam, taking in the lean frame and he snickered to himself.

"You worried about me getting beat up by Pretty Boy over there?" He asked, leaning in close. "Don't think I could take him?"

She looked up at Sam, meeting his eyes and coming to the realization how close they were standing.

She took a step back, breaking Sam's gaze.

"I'm actually more concerned about Marie finding out you're here, but sure, polish that male ego," she retorted sharply.

Sam glanced over at Clarke who was approaching now, a worried look on his features.

"I won't tell if you won't," Sam retorted as Clarke stopped in front of them, frowning.

"Thought I told you to wait at the hotel," Clarke hissed.

"Thought it was better to meet in person first. Make sure [Y/N] is doing alright," Sam retorted. "Y'know, considering I haven't heard from her."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," [Y/N] murmured. "I'm fine, alright?"

She rubbed her eyes.

"What isn't fine is that you're jeopardizing this whole thing for what? To make sure everything is still hunky-dory between us? That I'm not trying to screw you over?" She murmured in frustration. "If you wanted to talk you could have messaged me."

"But would you have answered?" Sam countered, causing her to purse her lips and sigh.

"If it was important to the case I certainly would," she replied, and Sam shook his head.

"I didn't think you were trying..." Sam began.

"Look, I'm all for the pair of you talking things over, but now isn't the damn time," Clarke interrupted. "Samuel, go to the hotel. Wait there. I'll find a reason to send [Y/N] back and you can hash out...whatever the hell is going on between you two."

[Y/N] looked at Clarke with a livid gaze, shaking her head.

"I don't..." she began.

"You've been mopey since all this and honestly? You're off your game. Majorly. The sooner you settle this the better. Alright?" Clarke declared quickly.

"I haven't been..."

"Samuel, go. Now. She'll see you soon."

"Oh, so I don't get a say in the matter?" [Y/N] replied as she crossed her arms.

"In this case, no," he retorted harshly.

"Hey, watch it," Sam declared protectively, and Clarke rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Screw all the work we've done. Hash this out now with Adam in earshot and risk Marie finding out. I'm keen to see how badly that all turns out."

[Y/N] looked pissed off, but she nodded curtly.

"Sam, just...for the love of God don't argue and go to the hotel," Clarke declared quickly, and when Sam opened his mouth to retort Clarke shushed him.

That got a laugh out of [Y/N] and he frowned.

Sam glanced over at Adam, beginning to look at them and he nodded.

He wasn't about to risk everything [Y/N] had worked for. Even if it would be better for himself.

He slipped into the crowd, risking a glance back to see [Y/N] frowning as Clarke looked like he was explaining something to Adam.

She happened to look over and meet Sam's eyes, the gaze unreadable.

Suddenly the prospect of being left alone with her in a hotel room seemed less than appealing.

\---------------///------------------

You stood out amongst your lavish surroundings, your practical clothing in stark contrast to the elegance of the people around you.

You walked hurriedly through the lobby, making your way up to your room as your stomach sunk lower and lower with dread.

You were definitely not looking forward to this.

Clarke had given you the rest of the day off, making up some excuse about you wanting to look over some things in more detail and you wished he had only given you an hour or two.

Because then you wouldn't be tempted to drag this out.

You weren't going to lie to yourself. There was a definite conflict.

You knew you had to tell him the pair of you couldn't work together, in both aspects. That your relationship was barely that, that you weren't interested anymore.

Except you couldn't deny he was good at what he did. He had more experience traversing the globe for treasure, more than Clarke or you did. He was...useful, in that aspect.

The elevator doors opened and you took a deep breath as you walked down the corridor.

Sam was already inside when you walked in, your spare keycard on the counter in the kitchenette, and it looked like he was pacing.

There was a definite line between his eyebrows and you were tempted for a moment to smooth it out with your thumb. Kiss the spot and tell him to calm down.

You couldn't tell if it was some sort of affection you still felt for him or habit.

"Hey," you called out, and he stopped, meeting your eyes and giving you a small smile.

"You certainly traded up," he declared as he looked around the room.

"Perks of Adam having money," you retorted as you slipped off your jacket, tossing it onto the bed.

"So it's nice then? Working for him?" Sam asked politely and you sighed.

"Work is work. At least he's not a psychopath or anything, so that's a nice little perk."

Sam chuckled at that and it made your stomach twist painfully.

"You have to tell me what that's like," he murmured with a smirk. "All I seem to do is work for psychos."

"It's less stressful for one thing. Not worrying you're gonna be shot in the head for saying the wrong thing," you replied with a knowing chuckle.

"You've worked with some pricks then?" Sam asked, frowning in concern and you sighed.

"Been lucky. But I've heard stories," you replied. "Yours, for example."

You shuddered at the thought of Rafe Adler. Sam of course had told you about their little adventure, and you were very glad you weren't involved in that disaster show.

And here you were, falling into the same habits with him. Talking as if you weren't dreading it, the repertoire flowing easily.

"You...don't exactly have a good reputation for loyalty, do you?" You murmured, and he shrugged.

"Nathan and I deserved that treasure. Not him. Choice was simple."

"So if you and I were against each other you wouldn't hesitate to take me down? Like anyone else that gets in the way of what you deserve?"

Sam frowned deeply at that, shaking his head.

"Course I wouldn't," he declared, slipping his hands in his pockets as he stood there. "We're friends."

Your stomach sunk at that statement and you steeled yourself to keep going.

"So was Rafe," you countered. "And, as far as I'm aware, friends don't screw each other."

"Rafe was a business partner, nothing more," Sam retorted. He took a step towards you, and before you could stop him he brushed some of your hair behind your ear. "And clearly, you haven't made the same kind of friends I have."

His hand rested on your neck, thumb stroking along your jawline and you hated the flutter that had bloomed in your stomach.

"Maybe you're happy with that, Sam," you murmured, pushing his hand away and you held it for a few moments between yours. "But I don't want just a friend."

You let go of his hand, forcing yourself to meet his eyes as you took a deep breath. You had to do this, you had to tell him before he used that damn charm to convince you that this was still a good idea.

"Sam, I...I think it's best if you work with Clarke from now on," you began, and when he opened his mouth to protest you continued. "Only Clarke."

You weren't looking at him now, your gaze directed back to the files and the like you were supposed to be looking at according to the lie Clarke had told.

"I...I thought I could do this, keep whatever feelings I had for you two years ago separate from what's been happening," you continued. "But I can't. And I know it's ridiculous to think that one glorious evening could convince you to feel the same way as I do...but..."

You met his eyes, feeling them begin to prick with growing tears.

"I...I think I'm in love with you Sam," you murmured, and you expected to feel this relief that it was out in the open, not this sudden hollowness as his features softened. "And...and seeing you again after two years....I mean Christ I felt like a damn idiot when I realized I had held onto these...these STUPID feelings for some prick who would never care for me the way I wanted him to."

The tears were beginning to flow now and you didn't bother to wipe them away as you continued.

"And then you gave me some hope, some glimmer of it when you, well, seduced me," you continued bluntly. "Because you wouldn't want to fuck me unless you cared about me, right?"

You shook your head, your laugh hollow.

"But I forgot, you're the great Samuel Drake, who has no need for emotion or connection when it comes to sex," you snarled. "You just take and take and take what you want and then act all surprised when someone asks for something back."

You stepped towards him.

"And I thought maybe you weren't lying when you said I was different," you barked. "But that's the line, right? The one you use on every woman you fuck to get them into bed in the first place?"

You shook your head again.

"I...I can't even look at you anymore, because I trusted you, Sam. And worse, I trusted myself to know when I was getting in too deep," you muttered.

Sam reached out towards you and you stepped back.

"Don't you dare," you snarled. "Don't even fucking try to charm yourself back from this, because I don't want to go through this again."

Your voice was growing strangled and you were beginning to sob.

"Go be James Bond somewhere else," you murmured. "Because I am supposed to be a professional and you're just....just..."

"You done?" Sam asked as you petered out, and you stumbled to the side of the bed. You sat down, your sobs increasing and you shook your head.

"Please Sam, just go," you murmured. When he didn't move you looked up at him sharply. "I said get out you goddamn stubborn ass...."

"[Y/N], look...." he began.

"Unless it's a damn apology I don't want to hear it Sam," you declared.

"Good," Sam retorted as he pulled up a chair to sit across from you. "Because that's what I'm doing."

You looked at him in surprise and he chuckled as he shrugged.

"Put all this aside for a minute," Sam murmured. "You're my friend. Alright? That's not changing at all. You were my friend back in Newfoundland and you're my friend now. And seeing my friends feeling like shit is goddamn awful for me, alright?"

You looked at him skeptically.

"Don't think for a second I intended to hurt you," he declared, reaching out and resting a hand on your knee. He smiled a little and chuckled. "Which is something I keep doing. Maybe it's a sign, hmm?"

He stroked your knee tenderly, his thumb tracing small circles on the side of your leg.

"You might be surprised to hear this, but I DO care about ya," he declared. "And trust me. When I screwed ya, there was no one else on my mind."

Sam chuckled to himself.

"In fact I was too focused on praying I could get, errr, everything working to think about much else," he admitted with a chuckle, his hand resting higher now. "Need to live up to whatever you thought I might be like."

"You....you worried?" You asked in surprise, and Sam laughed again.

"Well, I mean, yeah. Beautiful woman, you want to please her," Sam murmured. "And I'm kinda rusty, so...."

"What do you mean by that?" You asked in sheer confusion, and Sam released your leg.

"Well. You, uh, y'know those, uhhh, stories you've heard? I think you said five women, right?" He asked, beginning to look embarrassed and you nodded. "Well, I have no idea how you got the right number, but it's been five. In total."

Your eyes widened in surprise.

"High school girlfriend, some girl I knew in college, this Australian driver I met after my stint in prison, an Portuguese woman and then Abbie."

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"And then you. Making it six."

"You've been with only six women?" You asked skeptically as you wiped your eyes.

"Well it wasn't like I had any opportunities to increase that while I was in prison for thirteen years," Sam retorted with a chuckle. "The rest are just rumours. Don't ask me how those spread."

"But you didn't love any of them," you murmured, and Sam sighed.

"I...I couldn't tell you babe," he replied honestly. "I mean, I thought I did when it came to Crystal. Girl from the local high school, gorgeous red hair and lovely blue eyes. But then again, when I left I didn't really miss her."

He shrugged again.

"Not like I missed you, anyways, and I'm not even..." he began with a chuckle before he stopped at the expression on your features. "I missed you. Plain and simple. And these past few weeks haven't changed that in the slightest, because, y'know, you never talked to me."

You couldn't help but smile a little at that.

"If you wanted me to just drop this case then you should have just said so," he joked and you laughed weakly. "Cause I will. This whole thing has become kinda dull without ya there to keep me entertained."

"Don't you want to find the treasure though?" You asked, and he looked sheepish.

"Well, yeah, but I'd like you to be there with me when I do it," Sam retorted with a smile. "Though I'm not so sure you want the same thing."

You nodded at that, meeting his eyes.

"You have to admit though, we make a good pair," Sam declared. "Would be a shame to have to claim the treasure on my own."

"Who says you'd find it without my help?" You countered, wiping your eyes as your tears dried on your cheeks.

"Probably wouldn't. But that's why it's better we work together. Right?" He asked hopefully, and you sighed. "C'mon. All this...whatever going on doesn't matter."

You frowned at that.

"I...I didn't mean..." Sam fumbled. "We can be professional. I can be professional. Promise."

You scoffed at that.

"Ouch. I'm wounded."

You smiled at that, and he grinned.

"Sam...I'm sorry. I think...I definitely think we shouldn't work together anymore," you murmured. "We're practically on separate continents in terms of what we want from each other."

"[Y/N]...c'mon, give me a chance to prove it, huh?" Sam asked as he stood up. "We can work together for a month and if nothing changes then you can drop me. Deal?"

You sighed and shook your head.

"I've given you one too many, Sam. I'm sorry," you replied. "It's...it's going to take some time for me to move on from this. To let go of that hope that you could....well, doesn't matter now."

You stood up, sticking out your hand for him to shake.

"It's...it's been a pleasure to work with you and I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours," you declared, reciting what you told clients once you were done with their cases.

He glanced down at your hand and scoffed. When you didn't lower it he looked surprised. He opened his mouth to say something before he saw the look in your eyes, and it caused him to clasp your hand gently.

"Nothing is gonna change your mind, huh?" He asked, and you shook your head as he released your hand. "Alright. May the best person get the treasure."

There was a strange....hollowness to the words as he said them, and you frowned as he gathered his things.

"This doesn't change the fact I'm still gonna knock Clarke's lights out if he so much as insults you. I hope you know that," he continued. "Adam too."

"I know," you replied gently.

Sam began to walk for the door before he stopped. He turned on his heel, walking towards you before he leaned down, his mouth suddenly on the corner of yours.

He lingered there for a few moments.

"And if you change your mind, you know where to find me," he murmured into your ear.

"I won't. Sorry," you retorted as he stood back up.

"Woman who sticks to her guns. Kinda sexy," Sam declared with a wink before he opened the door. "Well. The offer's open if you want to take it."

He slipped out, closing the door behind him and for some reason that caused the tears begin to flow again. As you fully absorbed that this was goodbye, combined with your anger at the damn bastard for stringing you along....and the fact that you had meant what you said.

You loved him.

The tragedy was that, he simply didn't love you back.

And you just had to accept nothing could be done to change that fact. He was who he was, and you were who you were.

Well. Guess it was time to actually focus on the case and your client.

Had to give him something to work with so that he wouldn't get too suspicious.


	10. New Options

The grand love story of Joan and her soldier George only made you painfully aware of your own failings when it came to romance.

Clarke was kind enough not to ask how things had gone with Sam, though you could see in his eyes that he desperately wanted to ask.

You had thought you would feel freer after you broke off contact with Sam, but instead all you felt was...well, hollow. Like someone had scraped you out and left the husk.

The thought of painful scrapes only seemed to make your cramps worse, and you let out a low groan as you lay in a hotel room in a town bordering France, Adam and Clarke off exploring while you recuperated.

The long nights of researching and exploring were starting to take their toll on you. You were exhausted, and the fact you felt a painful tug in your stomach every time Adam mentioned Joan or George wasn't helping anything.

You still caught yourself wondering how Sam was doing before you stopped yourself.

You had promised yourself you would move on, and that was what needed to happen.

But it was like the damn bastard had a firm grasp on you and just wouldn't let go, your thoughts constantly going to your last meeting. Specifically what he had not said.

You didn't know if you had expected him to drop on his hands and knees and beg for you to forgive him, but you were still disappointed in him for his almost blasé reaction.

He seemed to be disappointing you a lot recently.

You curled up in bed, trying to read through the journal Adam had given you concerning his grandfather.

You were thankful for the neat handwriting, though the clear adoration in his words for Joan was none too pleasant for you. He spoke of their escapades with such affection it felt almost awful knowing how it would end.

Adam had explained to you some of his family history over dinner one night, of how his grandfather had gone into the First World War to work off a prison sentence (something Adam seemed quite proud to mention) with such cockiness that it could likely stop a bullet. But when he returned, like so many others he was broken.

Adam had always thought it was just the war, but the discovery of the man's journal a few months ago changed that as he learned how Adam had left France without the woman he affectionately called "his magpie". He never gave his reasons, but it was apparent it had not been by choice.

George had come back to Scotland, finished his sentence and eventually eloped with a local girl with a sizeable dowry. Contrary to the time, her parents had taken him into their home at the news and allowed him to use the dowry how he wished.

He opened a whisky distillery.

You were learning all sorts of things about Joan, but you still had nothing on the Lark and the Dove. If Joan was explicit in her actions according to George, then the two of them were as clandestine as humanly possible.

You closed your eyes and rubbed them with one hand, setting down the journal as you did so.

Your cell phone buzzed and you picked it up, cracking open an eye as you glanced at the screen.

"I know we aren't talking, but trust me on this. Get a train out of Belgium and meet me in Paris. Might have found something. - Sam"

"Har har har, nice try Samuel Drake," you murmured as you shut off the screen, the twist in your stomach at the sudden message blending into the pain in your abdomen.

You set the phone by your side and picked up the journal again, skimming through it more than reading it.

You should have just blocked him from your phone, but you just couldn't seem to do it. Perhaps you were being pathetic and clinging to a tiny shred of hope he would use that last form of communication to...what? Confess love he didn't have?

"Joan's cousins do not appear to trust me," you read absentmindedly. "They do not agree that it would be better to separate the horde into sections, place it throughout France so that if one is taken the rest will be safe."

It wasn't like that would ever change, he had made it very clear when you last spoke.

"Joan, however, has listened to my advice, and placed a significant amount in Paris. Apparently her cousins know a few French soldiers who may be able to place our wealth throughout the city, though I am unaware if they have been successful in such an endeavour."

And to ever think that....

Wait. What?

"....placed a significant amount in Paris...place our wealth throughout the city...." you read again, and you looked at Sam's message.

It had been a month since you two had spoken, and you had sworn to yourself you would keep your promise. You wouldn't contact him, you wouldn't help him, you wouldn't even think of him.

Despite you utterly failing the third part you were intent to keep the first two. Even if you had found information that made Sam's idea seem promising.

There was a light series of knocks on your door. You stumbled out of bed, wincing at the sudden movement before you walked towards it.

You checked through the peephole to see Clarke standing there, a grocery bag tucked under his arm as he tapped his foot impatiently.

"Patience is a virtue," you murmured with a small smile before you opened the door, barely able to get a word out before Clarke placed the bag in your hands.

You opened it as he closed the door, revealing some chocolate and other goodies that made you grin.

"Had an ex that had awful cramps, this used to help her," Clarke declared with a smile. "Feeling any better?"

"A little bit now that I know I get to eat chocolate," you declared, causing Clarke to laugh. "How'd the search go today with Adam?"

Clarke's smile turned into a frown.

"Not good. We were lucky to find coins from the twenty-first century let alone the twentieth, and all the former were from careless tourists with too much change in their pockets," Clarke retorted.

Clarke laughed to himself.

"Meanwhile it seems like Sam is finding everything. Starting to think you should have stayed with him just so we could get the treasure," Clarke joked, causing you to frown. "Sorry."

"So you got the message too?" You asked, and Clarke nodded.

"Though I don't think yours mentioned anything about 'convincing [Y/N] to come along, I'm just so lonely without her, please save me from my horrible mistake'...."

"He didn't say that," you retorted and Clarke shrugged.

"He could have. You don't know what the two of us men talk about when you're not around," Clarke countered with a playful grin, causing you to giggle as your stomach did a little dip.

You took out some of the chocolate, sitting on the bed and breaking off a piece before you offered him some. He shook his head and you popped the chocolate into your mouth.

"So you think I should go then?" You asked, and Clarke shrugged as he sat down beside you.

"All I think is that you're no better now then before you told him to go," Clarke retorted bluntly. "Actually, no offence, but you've been kind of....worse."

You looked at him sharply and he held up his hands defensively.

"All I'm saying is that you've been all sullen and certainly NOT the woman I've known for two years," he murmured.

"And you know me so well, huh?" You replied with a smirk, and he shrugged.

"I know for the fact you always used to brighten at even the slightest mention of the First World War," Clarke retorted. "Now...now you just seem to sit there quietly as if you're waiting for the conversation to be over."

You wished you had a better response to that, but Clarke had you pinned.

"Trust me, there's no judgement here. It took me a solid year to get over Abigail..." Clarke declared before he met your eyes. "Closure isn't going to happen overnight, and certainly not when we're still helping him get to the treasure."

"I...I promised to help him, though," you murmured.

"Back when it was the two of you," Clarke reminded you, touching your arm gently. "The only obligation you had to him you severed when you said you weren't working together anymore."

Clarke leaned in close.

"As far as I can tell, the only obligation you have now is to yourself," he murmured, and you found yourself mirroring the action. "[Y/N], Samuel is managing fine on his own from what I can tell. He doesn't need you."

You winced at that, leaning back and Clarke looked apologetic.

"Sorry, that was a bit....yeah, more than a bit harsh," Clarke declared. "But you know what I mean. [Y/N], if you need to walk away from all this then no one is going to blame you."

"Clarke, I'm not walking away from a case I've been waiting this long for," you countered with a small laugh, and Clarke looked pleased.

"Good. Nice to know you haven't lost your mind completely over some bastard," Clarke retorted, and you smiled. "And there she is. Wait, take a picture before she slips away."

You shook your head and grinned.

"Careful, keep this up and I might just start liking you too," You asked, and Clarke laughed.

"Well, I can think of worse fates than that," Clarke replied, and you noticed his grin was a little brighter than it had been.

Had...had it always been that bright?

No, no you'd gone down this path before, nothing good could come of liking another man with a sparkle in his eye and a roguish charm to his smile.

"But the question becomes, hypothetically, would you like me back?" You found yourself asking, and Clarke grinned.

"Who says I don't already?" He countered, and you sighed.

"Clarke, please, don't," you replied gently, and Clarke frowned.

"Well that's not the reaction a guy wants to hear when he confesses he likes a girl," Clarke retorted, and you smiled a little.

"Well to be fair, your timing is awful," you countered.

"Yeah. Should have told you two years ago when I saw you at that gala, right?" He replied. "Save you all this trouble."

"But you didn't like me then," you retorted.

"True. But it would have been anticipatory," Clarke countered.

You didn't respond, at a loss for words at the realization that there was someone, a rather handsome someone, who had admitted an interest in you.

And it made you realize part of the reason you'd held onto thoughts of Sam for the past month. Besides the fact he had broken your heart, of course.

You were trying to see if Clarke would act the same way as Sam had when you took that leap of faith.

You wanted to pinpoint the exact moment you had become interested in Clarke, but the truth was...it had kinda always been there. It was sort of like the crush you would get on teachers, with no hope of reciprocation and yet you'd do it anyways.

You had to stop liking older men, this was getting ridiculous.

"A wise man told me never to let romance get involved in this kind of work," you murmured.

"Good thing we're getting out of this kind of work then...." Clarke declared with a wink.

His shoulder brushed against yours, and you knew it would be the worst idea to try and leap into something right after everything with Sam.

Besides, being unprofessional had bitten you in the ass before.

Clarke took your hand, turning it over and tracing the lines in your palm.

"So what does my future say?" You asked quietly, and Clarke chuckled.

"If I could tell you I would," Clarke murmured. "But I know for a fact you will get through all this."

You nodded, watching the gentle action and there was a certain hope you had not felt for a month beginning to brew up inside you.

"If you want a disgraced professor by your side for the journey there is entirely your choice," Clarke murmured. "But I have been told I'm decent company."

You smiled at that, taking your hand out of his grasp before you met his eyes hesitantly.

"Well you haven't proven that false yet, so maybe there's hope," you murmured.

"Hope, huh? Is that all you're gonna give me to work with?" He teased.

Your hand went to his neck as you went to sitting on your knees, rising into a kneel before you tilted his head towards you.

You were the one to kiss him first, already deepening the kiss as your brain screamed at you that this could never end well in your favour.

But you wanted closure. You wanted something to take your mind off of that prick and Clarke was offering it.

There were no expectations this time, no past emotions to contend with and it was startlingly refreshing.

You broke the kiss first, your smile playful.

"That enough to work with?" You asked, and Clarke chuckled.

"Well, you know me," Clarke murmured. "Can't shake that need for more sources and research."

"So you want me to get an academic source to prove I'm interested in you?" You countered.

"Footnotes too. Chicago Style, with a full works cited at the end," he retorted, and you laughed.

"You are such a history nerd," you countered and he shrugged.

"So are you," he replied, his hand stroking your hair out of your eyes.

You ran a hand through his cropped black hair and sighed.

"Promise you won't..." you began, and Clarke nodded.

"Promise I won't," he replied. "But, do yourself a favour. Don't...try to put any expectations on it this time."

"So I won't be heartbroken when you leave?" You murmured, and he shook his head.

"So you can give it a chance to actually blossom into something," Clarke replied.

You smiled gently.

"Less sage advice, more kissing," you replied, and Clarke chuckled.

"I can work with that."

\--------------------///-----------------------------

Sam knew it was a long shot to convince [Y/N] to come to Paris, especially considering how things had ended.

But he had legitimately found something, a certain kind of lock in the basement of a building that had once been a bordello. One that couldn't be unlocked without knowledge of the First World War.

So he did something uncharacteristic of him.

He waited and he hoped.

He knew he could do this without her, hell he'd survived on his own this long.

But it didn't seem....right.

This had always been their treasure to find together, and he...genuinely wanted her by his side when he found it.

Wrap her up in his arms and pull her off her feet, the two of them whooping like monkeys before he would kiss her in the heat of the moment.

Ask her to lower her expectations, settle for what he could give at the moment.

Not that she would necessarily agree, but there was always hope, right?

His cell phone buzzed, and he found himself grinning at the message from Clarke asking for his location.

Because where Clarke was, [Y/N] seemed to follow.

He typed in the coordinates quickly, getting a response of the three of them looking into it tomorrow. [Y/N] was exhausted from the train over and wanted to get some rest.

So Sam left the bordello, making his way back to the cheap hotel Sullivan and him were staying at.

What harm was another day?

\-----------------------/////-----------------------

"I...I don't like this," you declared as Clarke and you trudged through the basement to get to the lock Sam had mentioned.

"You want closure?" Clarke asked, and you nodded. "Then find the thing keeping it from happening..."

"You're not just saying that because..." you trailed off, and Clarke smirked.

"Well. Yeah, partially. But this is your research paying off, your treasure," Clarke murmured, his hand squeezing yours.

"Should I report the two of you for being unprofessional?" Adam asked as he walked behind you, and you looked sheepish.

"Says the guy who's been screwing our boss," Clarke retorted, causing Adam to chuckle.

"Fair enough. So, you're certain Sam wasn't pulling your leg? There's something here?" Adam asked hopefully, and you nodded despite the guilt beginning to creep in.

Clarke and you had decided to tell Adam everything on the long train ride over after you confessed you were getting sick and tired of all this subterfuge.

You had only been doing it for Sam and that was no longer an issue.

Didn't make the guilt at the fact you were using his information to get to the treasure first alleviate in the slightest.

"He wouldn't lie about this," Clarke replied as you stopped in front of a door with an elaborate lock.

You noticed the pieces appeared to be moveable on something that looked like a map, trying to figure out the pattern as you shifted them around.

First World War battles? Places of interest? Just a random pattern that had no significance whatsoever?

Adam began to laugh and you looked at him in surprise.

"It's where Grandpa was sent to throughout the war," Adam declared, motioning you to step aside before he set up the pieces rapidly.

"I seriously need to stop hunting for treasures that involve people making puzzles as grand romantic gestures," you murmured, and Clarke smiled.

There was an audible click and the door swung open, and the sight inside the room made your heart leap.

It was a historian's dream of perfectly preserved artifacts, but you were focused on the cases on the floor, one of them cracked open to reveal some coins at the bottom.

Clarke went for the gold while Adam went for the books and journals, the two of them babbling excitedly about their prospective finds.

You wished you could join in on their enthusiasm, but all you felt was this twist in your stomach knowing that Sam was going to realize you had betrayed him.

Clarke was grinning at you, and you grinned back half-heartedly as you tried not to picture that same kind of smile on Sam's features.

You had made your decision. Now you needed to live with it.

Both in terms of the treasure and the fact you had chosen Clarke, someone that didn't even seem like an option before all this.

You wondered at which Sam would be upset about more. Not that he seemed to care in the slightest about the latter based on how he had acted.

You rubbed your abdomen absentmindedly, the cramps still there though in a lesser degree, and you were surprised at the firmness there.

"So Joan left all this for him when she ran off to Germany with her cousins," Adam declared in awe as he looked through a few notebooks. "Christ. She must have loved him."

"Love makes people do strange things," Clarke countered as he looked at you. "Right?"

You nodded, fretting as you pressed down on the hardness, wondering what the hell it meant.

Your monthly visitor needed to just make an appearance already and be done with it. All these cramps were getting you concerned.

Your thoughts were quickly distracted as Clarke and Adam planned how to haul the treasure out, and you were a little stunned when Adam declared he had found what he wanted.

He was content to go back to Scotland with the knowledge of some of what had happened, and a few coins in his pocket.

Well more than a few, but that wasn't the point.

You didn't notice till Clarke had nudged you that he was holding out a journal to you, open to a specific page and you took it with a chuckle.

"Read the third paragraph."

You looked over the words, meeting Clarke's eyes.

"This isn't over, is it?" You asked, and Clarke shook his head.

"Not for us," he replied. "[Y/N]...how do you feel about going freelance for a bit?"

Your stomach twisted in trepidation, but you had to admit...the prospect was tempting.

You knew you were nowhere close to the end with all this, and you intended to pursue it.

Except...you felt so damn guilty for screwing Sam over in terms of this, and perhaps that was why you said the next words.

"Only if we bring Sam along."

Clarke looked surprised and you became defensive.

"We've been managing fine on our own, I know, but if we're going to do the whole chaotic span the globe thing we need someone like him on our side," you murmured. "And it would make up for screwing him over with this job..."

Clarke looked at you hesitantly.

"Who says he'd accept?"

You shrugged.

"It's...it's worth a shot, right?" You asked, and Clarke frowned. "I...I might still be hurt about what he did, but it makes sense to bring him along...."

You kissed Clarke gently.

"And this time we won't have to worry about some bastard breaking my heart again," you declared, and Clarke smiled a little. "Plus, you could kick his ass if he tried to go near me."

You nudged his shoulder.

"Not many people can say they were able to get in a few punches against Samuel Drake and love to tell the tale," you murmured.

"I'm a pacifist. But the offer's tempting," Clarke retorted with a chuckle as he met your eyes. "Screw it. I'm in."

You knew this could end horribly...but you decided to be hopeful it wouldn't.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Fool me three times?

Well, then that just rightfully warranted giving the prick a broken nose didn't it?


	11. Unexpected (Is A Kind Term)

To be honest, you had anticipated most of the reactions that Sam would have to your offer to work together after you'd claimed part of the treasure without him, a lot of them involving angry words and a hurt expression.

And yet you had not factored in the possibility that he might reject you outright.

He didn't even have the decency to respond to your message, simply letting it linger there and you eventually just accepted that he simply did not want to work together with you.

Well. Time to figure out if he really meant it when he said he wouldn't take you down just because you were on different sides.

It was no secret within the treasure hunting community that Samuel Drake was out for blood after he lost a decent sum of a fortune to some 'rich bastard and his two hired lackeys', spotted a few nights later nursing a stiff drink and a sharp expression.

So it didn't surprise you that he was intent to find the rest of the treasure to compensate, and you didn't have the benefit of his affection this time to protect you.

So yeah. You were a tad jumpy when you landed in the Netherlands.

Clarke had assured you that everything would be fine, his hand on the small of your back as his mouth lingered on yours, and you leaned into the kiss gratefully as you stood in your hotel room.

You deepened the kiss, your hands resting on the nape of his neck as he pulled you in closer with a smile.

His cell phone buzzed and he withdrew apologetically, answering it as he kept one arm around your waist.

You listened as he spoke to someone jovially, though when you tried to kiss his cheek he gave you a small frown.

"Did I do something wrong?" You mouthed, and Clarke shook his head as he held a finger up.

"Yes. Yes of course. I'll be there tonight," he declared before he hung up. "Sorry. Potential ally. Apparently I'm supposed to wine and dine him or something."

"So I guess that means you have to take me dress shopping," you replied with a smile, and Clarke looked at you awkwardly.

"Actually, he just wanted to see me," he retorted. "Also, not quite sure how professional it would look to bring you along."

"You're bringing your other ally. What issue could he have with that?" You asked as you stepped back, a frown beginning to form.

"It's not that," Clarke replied, stroking back some of your hair. "It's just...well. You're, err, a little...younger than the other people I've worked with."

Your frown deepened.

"You worked with Abbie when she was my age," you countered, and Clarke kissed your forehead.

"But I wasn't trying to convince anyone to help me then," he replied. "You have to admit, it looks a little...unprofessional, to bring along some hot young thing to a work dinner."

"You do remember I have a Master's degree right?" You countered, and Clarke sighed.

"He isn't going to believe that for a moment, trust me," Clarke replied.

"And you're not going to try to convince him?"

Clarke rubbed his eyes a little with the pads of his index finger and his thumb.

"Trust me on this. It's better if I go on my own when it comes to him," Clarke replied. "Besides, you've always hated acting like a sleaze-ball at Marie's galas to get clients. It would be just like that at this dinner."

You continued to frown and Clarke kissed you again tenderly.

"I'm sorry. Really. I promise, I'll make this up to you," Clarke declared as he went to the door that connected his room to yours.

He opened it and paused.

"I promise I'll text you all night with the details. And some whining, of course," Clarke declared with a laugh, and despite joining him it didn't alleviate a spark of anger beginning to flicker inside you.

"Sure," you replied, crossing your arms as Clarke closed the door.

Which was how you had ended up in your current situation, wandering through the streets of Amsterdam after you grew bored being alone in your hotel room.

You'd been here before on a previous case, one that involved some priceless jewel and you smiled fondly at the memory of sitting in some cafe giggling with one of your coworkers.

You wondered what had happened to her. Probably settled down with that girl she had been dating at the time.

You watched a few people pass by on their bicycles, the sounds of their bells chiming pleasantly in the growing darkness, and you wondered if you would be required to use one while you were here.

Which was when you felt something collide into you sharply, falling to the ground with a painful thump.

It was almost comical watching the man careen over you as his bike clattered to the ground, the man landing beside you on the street. Thankfully he appeared to be wearing a helmet.

When you looked around you saw a crowd had gathered, and you wondered what they were looking at with such horror as you sat up.

It was when your arm didn't seem to want to cooperate that you glanced down to see it hanging limply at your side.

You risked a tentative poke causing a sharp pain to shoot up your arm and you let out a pained yell.

"Well that was stupid," you muttered as you sat there, watching a few people pull out their phones and you wondered why none of them appeared to be trying to call an ambulance.

Someone called out in Dutch and the crowd parted, and you watched a familiar blond approach.

James knelt down beside you, appearing to give orders to the crowd and you found yourself laughing.

"Well these are some interesting odds," you declared as he gingerly helped you to your feet, using his jacket to make a sling for your arm.

"Anything else broken?" James asked with concern and you shook your head.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialled, beginning to speak rapidly in Dutch as you leaned against him.

"Where did you learn to speak Dutch?" You asked as he guided you towards a street corner.

"The Harris job, remember? With that woman who was trying to get back some tome from her ex-husband?" He murmured, and you grinned.

"The one that was screwing his secretary right?" You countered, James speaking in Dutch before he chuckled.

"That's the one," he replied as he hung up. "They'll be here in a few minutes."

He helped you sit down, rubbing your back a little and you leaned into him gratefully.

"So what brings you back here?" You asked, and James smiled as he typed something into his phone.

"Well apparently I'm supposed to be helping your boyfriend find the treasure of Les Chats," he murmured.

"You're Clarke's contact?" You asked in surprise, and James looked confused.

"Who?" He asked.

"Clarke. My...well I wouldn't say boyfriend, I mean we've just started dating...." you retorted with a blush.

"Wait, you're dating Marie's cousin?" James asked as his eyebrows rose. "What about Sam?"

"That didn't work out," you replied as you looked out into the street, waiting for the ambulance to arrive.

"Oh. I'm sorry," he retorted. "You two seemed...like you had something."

"Well, as it turns out, I wanted something he didn't want to give," you murmured as the ambulance arrived.

James helped load you into the ambulance, climbing in beside you before the doors closed.

The paramedics spoke to you in accented English, and you answered to the best of your ability. James answered the rest, most of it in Dutch.

You closed your eyes and sighed.

"Don't pass out on me," James declared and you chuckled softly.

"Then give me a good reason to stay awake," you retorted, and James looked hesitant as you opened your eyes.

"I came here because Sam asked me to help him find the treasure," James declared.

Your stomach plummeted as you met his eyes.

"I assumed you were working together when I accepted," James explained. "But I guess not, based on the look on your face."

"No. I'm one of the lackeys that helped to screw him out of the treasure in Paris," you retorted as the vehicle stopped, the doors opening.

"Oh. That might be a problem," James countered, and you frowned.

"Why?"

"Because I might have sent him a message saying which hospital we were going to."

"Oh. Fuck me," you murmured as you were rapidly carted inside.

\----------------------------------------///-------------------------------------------------------

"So you broke your arm when you were run over by someone on a bicycle?" The nurse asked, and you nodded. "Any other injuries?"

"I don't believe so," you retorted. "I landed on my side so there's no head injuries."

You winced as a dull ache went through your abdomen, and the nurse noticed.

"Sorry. Period cramps," you murmured before you laughed. "Joys of being a woman eh?"

She nodded sympathetically, and you didn't add your immense relief at the appearance of your monthly visitor.

For a moment there you thought you might be pregnant or something.

"We will get someone to patch up your arm. In the meantime, try to get some rest. The doctor will he with you shortly."

She left you in the examining room and you gulped audibly, drumming on your knees nervously.

Someone walked in and you tensed until you caught the familiar blond hair and relaxed.

"They said I could stay here when you talk to the doctor," James declared as he squeezed your hand comfortingly. "Had to lie at the desk and say I was your boyfriend, but hey, whatever works right?"

You smirked at that as the doctor came in, calmly explaining the procedure to you, and you were surprised when he said James could be nearby for it.

She fixed up your arm, saying you were lucky it was a clean break that she somehow was able to rapidly patch up for you. God bless modern medicine.

You lay with the cast on your arm as you dialled Clarke's number in the lobby, sighing in frustration when you got no response.

You stood up, beginning to pace when you nearly ran into someone walking into the room hurriedly.

Calloused hands caught your arms and you looked up, whisky-brown eyes meeting yours with concern as he opened his mouth to speak.

Your heart thudded in your chest almost painfully.

"Nice to see you seem to be alright," Sam declared finally after standing there for a few moments and you let out a sharp bark of a laugh.

"Oh yeah Sam, just peachy," you retorted coolly as you stepped back, your heart still pounding.

"Clearly you and I have different definitions for 'peachy'," he declared teasingly.

"Clearly you and I disagree on a lot of things," you retorted sharply as your cell phone rung.

You stepped outside, the cool air brushing against your exposed skin as you stood there in your t-shirt. You went to rub your arms when you realized you couldn't move one of them and you groaned.

"I'm about to clinch the deal, what's going on?" Clarke asked with what sounded like some frustration.

"Clarke, need you to come to the..." you began.

"Look, I'm sorry, can you call me back later? I'm legitimately about to get this guy on our side," he murmured. "And the longer I'm on the phone the more frustrated he's looking with me."

"Well, I'm sorry but I..." you tried again.

"Sorry, I gotta go."

He hung up, and you were in complete shock.

"Chose that over Sam, eh?" James asked with a cock of an eyebrow as he appeared beside you.

"He's just...he's stressed, that's all," you murmured.

"Uh huh," James replied as he glanced back at the hospital. "And there's my cue to leave."

You frowned as he pulled you into a tight hug.

"Don't be too nasty with him," James advised before he released you, and you were about to ask him what he meant when a familiar voice spoke.

"So I guess this means I have to break Clarke's arm?" Sam asked, lighting a cigarette and you frowned. "Y'know, the deal we made before."

"He didn't cause me to get hit by a bike," you replied as you tried to cross your arms before you realized you couldn't, letting out a sharp huff.

"But he wasn't there to protect you, was he?" Sam countered.

"I don't need protecting."

Sam nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"So who's idea was it then?" Sam asked as he looked down at you.

"Idea for what?" You countered.

"To screw me over," Sam replied. "I know you think I...broke your heart, but you've never struck me as petty."

"It wasn't petty, it was just business," you murmured.

"Clarke tell you to say that?" Sam replied gently, and you looked up at him sharply.

"Nope. Surprised?"

"Honestly? Yeah," Sam replied as he took another drag, blowing out the smoke. "Considering it was always meant to be ours to find. Remember?"

"Look, if you're going to punish me for it then just get it over with. We're already at a damn hospital, do your worst," you countered, spreading out your arms to the best of your ability.

Sam looked at you and scoffed.

"C'mon, I'm not gonna hit you," he declared.

"Why? I screwed you over. Go for it," You countered and he met your eyes.

"[Y/N], c'mon. This isn't you," he replied.

"You know me so well, right?" You snarled.

"We're friends, I know enough," he replied with a certain cockiness.

"We were never friends, Sam," you retorted. "Just two people who's goals happened to align twice. And the second time I was paid to do it."

Sam sighed out the smoke.

"If Clarke's not coming to pick ya up, let me call ya a cab to take you home, alright?" Sam murmured, appearing to ignore your statement.

"Oh how honourable of you," you snarled. "Should just drop to my knees and suck you off for such chivalry, right?"

Sam blinked a few times before he began to chuckle.

The reaction was so rapid you had not realized you had done it until your good hand came back sore and Sam appeared to be clutching his nose.

"Oh God, Sam I..." you began.

"You clocked me," he interrupted, pulling back his hand to reveal blood beginning to trickle from his nostrils.

He wiped at the blood and let out a small laugh.

"You actually clocked me," he repeated with what sounded like awe, beginning to laugh. "Didn't know you could get violent."

He wiped at his nose as guilt and shame washed over you.

"I'm...I'm sorry I shouldn't have..." you began.

"I'm fine. I mean all I can taste is blood," he declared with a chuckle as he wiped his nose again. "But as you say, I'm damn peachy."

He met your eyes.

"How long have you been planning to do that?" He asked. "Quite a bit of force in there."

"Longer than I thought," you found yourself replying, Sam wiping his nose before he rubbed the bridge.

"Wanna get a few more hits in to get it all out of your system?" Sam joked.

You stepped forward, looking at his nose and wincing.

"I really shouldn't have done that," you muttered.

"Probably not," Sam replied. "But I've gotten worse before."

Sam chuckled.

"Starting to think it's me or something."

Your mouth quirked up at that, and Sam caught it, smiling back.

"I...I felt awful when I did it," you blurted.

"Punching me?" Sam asked with raised eyebrows.

"Going behind your back. That's why I offered you the chance to work with me and Clarke."

Sam took a drag from his cigarette, stubbing it out on the pavement.

"Which I said wasn't ideal, but I didn't mind it."

"You...you did?" You asked, and he nodded.

"Course I did," he replied. "Didn't want you and Clarke getting all the credit."

"You never responded," you replied in confusion, and Sam shook his head.

"I'm old, not that old," Sam countered as he met your eyes. "And besides that...I, uhh..."

He scratched the nape of his neck.

"I wanted to give you a reason to have some respect for me," Sam murmured.

"Because we were once friends?" You asked, Sam beginning to talk as a car suddenly pulled up.

"Hey, thought you might need a ride home," James declared as he rolled down the window. "Sam, you can...what happened to your face?"

Sam shrugged.

"Uh, anyways...you're fine with waiting for a few minutes right?"

Sam nodded, James slipping out of the car and opening the door for you. You clumsily made your way inside, James closing the door behind you.

"So just tell me the address and I can tell the cab driver to take you there," James said as he slipped out of the car. You nodded, reciting the address and James repeated it to the man sitting in the front.

He stepped back, and you gave him a thankful nod.

The car pulled away, and you drove for a few minutes before your cell phone pinged.

"You said it yourself. We were never just friends. - Sam"

Your stomach plummeted and your heart thudded.

Made you want to punch Sam again.

After you talked to Clarke about this mysterious disappearing message. And the fact he'd essentially abandoned you for someone else.

Yeah. You were looking forward to when this case was all wrapped up.

You were definitely getting tired of this.


	12. Circumstances Aligning

Sam wasn't gonna lie. When James had told him [Y/N] had broken her arm, his stomach had plummeted.

He didn't know why he had been so worried. He'd broken bones before, worse ones and he'd been alright. Besides, it wasn't like she was on her own.

Though the noble Clarke Baker was nowhere to be found last night, and it made him grit his teeth.

Your girlfriend breaks her freaking arm and you still can't drag yourself away from a business dinner.

She deserved better than that prick, and if [Y/N] and him were still working together he would have said something about it.

Or done something. The latter was more likely for him.

But instead, he was left here to stew over some toast and black coffee as he looked over the documents James had brought.

He rubbed his nose a little, chuckling quietly to himself as he began to think about [Y/N].

Well, that was a lie. That would imply he ever stopped thinking about her, her absence taking a heavier toll on him than he expected.

Any moment he wasn't thinking about the treasure his mind always seemed to wander to her. Before last night, it had mostly been him puzzling over what had happened, what Clarke had said to her to make her decide to practically hand the treasure to Adam Ferguson on a silver platter.

Seeing her again though, that had changed things. Now, he was embarrassed to admit, he mostly wondered if she was doing alright.

It wasn't too out of the ordinary, if he really thought about it. Her arm was broken and based on what Abbie had told him about working with Clarke, the man had nearly run her to the point of exhaustion when they worked together. Too used to working himself to the brink for his research and expecting the same of his students and his colleagues.

Which, granted, could just have been her convenient excuse for why she had stabbed him in the hand and run off.

But he had to accept it. [Y/N] had made her choices and so had he, and they were now on opposite sides for the same treasure. He should be glad that Clarke was weakening his team, it would give Sam a better chance to claim everything for himself.

He thought of [Y/N]'s small smile, how she had cradled her arm to her chest, her skin prickled from the cool air last night.

He should have given her his jacket. Not that she would have accepted it, but he still should have.

Wrapped it around her shoulders, tucking it around her frame before he would hold it for a few moments. Use it to tug her forward, cradle the back of her head to tilt her head up in order to allow him to kiss her. Collided his mouth against hers, pull her closer before he would deepen the kiss, his tongue parting her lips before....

Someone snapped their fingers in front of his eyes and he realized he'd been staring off into the distance, causing James to smirk.

"Not thinking about the enemy are we?" James teased as he sat down across from him, his papers already highlighted.

"Thinking about the vacation I'm going to take after all this," Sam countered. "Somewhere tropical, maybe. Thinking Fiji."

"With a curvaceous woman who fills her bikini in all the right places?" James teased, and Sam tried not to picture [Y/N] in said outfit. Crawling into his lap, her mouth brushing along his neck as he let out a contented hum, him shirtless and with an arm around her waist.

Well. Apparently he didn't try hard enough.

"Thought you were gay," Sam declared, and James laughed.

"Seen enough straight-guy fantasies to know a thing or two," James countered. "More importantly though....I think I found something useful."

James passed the document across the table, pointing to a specific paragraph.

"So what it looks like is that Joan stayed in Germany while her cousins came to the Netherlands to continue trading," James explained. "Legally this time, though. There were two women, spinsters in the 1940s, worked with the resistance and helped them to get information out of here during the German occupation."

"You think they were the cousins?" Sam asked, and James nodded. "So how does that help us find this treasure?"

"Well," James began as he flipped through his papers, pulling out one and laying it on top of the other. "One of them, Marie, died during the Second World War trying to help the resistance. The other, according to the local stories, apparently locked herself in her home for the last couple of years of her life."

"Not too unusual," Sam replied uncertainly.

"True. But, if one of my former clients is to be believed, Emilie spent most of her time writing," James replied before he chuckled. "Actually, there were local legends she was a witch and she used the book to curse people she didn't like."

"So you think there's a journal?" Sam asked with a hopeful grin, and James nodded. "So how do we get it?"

"That's the difficult part," James retorted with a frown. "None of the trio had any children, so there was no family to pass the journal onto. Meaning it could have been sold off to the highest bidder, who might have used it for kindling....or it was just tossed out when someone came to clean out her house after she died."

"Do you know if her house is still standing?" Sam asked, and James' frown deepened.

"That's the OTHER difficult part," he murmured, pulling out a recent newspaper article he'd printed off. He pointed to a thick black heading that declared 'Decrepit Cottage Torn Down'. "Two local kids believed some of the ghost stories concerning the house, snuck in to see if they could speak to the ghosts of Marie and Emilie...and a beam landed on one of them. Killed him instantly."

Sam winced at the thought.

"His parents petitioned to get the house demolished and succeeded," James declared with a frustrated sigh. "Anything that was still in the house was likely destroyed when it was torn down."

Sam looked at the article, examining the picture before he met James' eyes.

"Do we know where it used to be?" Sam asked, and James looked hesitant.

"Well, I think so, but I think all that's left there is rubble," James replied. "Though it hasn't been touched in years."

"Why's that?" Sam asked, and James laughed.

"Ghost stories again. Protected by the spirits of Emilie and Marie...and their many cat minions of terror," James declared as he waggled his fingers.

"So we just need to follow the trail of dead mice and hair balls," Sam replied with a grin as he looked at James. "Worth a shot, right?"

James shrugged a little and smiled.

"Well...it's not like we have many other leads, do we?"

\------------------------------------/////------------------------------------------------------

You sat on the sofa in your suite, doing your best to flip the pages of the journal with your good hand as the other rested by your side.

Clarke was currently sitting on the bed, documents spread out around him as he spoke into his phone in low tones with your newfound ally.

He was a businessman apparently, his family having grown up in the area, and that was honestly all you knew about him. Clarke wasn't very forthcoming with details and you wondered what more was to it.

Clarke it seemed had contacts everywhere, one of which had reliably informed him of a tall blond and his companion, an older brunet being spotted wandered around the region a few hours or so from Amsterdam.

It didn't take much brainpower to figure out it was James and Sam respectively, though what was proving more difficult was why they were practically patrolling said region.

Nothing Clarke and you had led to that location. In fact, what you possessed seemed to lead in the opposite direction, further into the city.

Clarke ran a hand through his hair, the man on the other end of the line clearly speaking to him and you felt sorry for Clarke as he frowned.

You set the journal aside, using the armrests to bring yourself to your feet. You walked over to Clarke, pushing aside some of the pages before you sat in front of him.

You took his hand, placing it in your lap before you began to stroke it, and he withdrew his hand quickly as he turned away from you slightly.

He picked up the papers you had placed on the edge of the bed, flipping through them as he cradled his phone into his shoulder, still speaking to his ally.

It was your turn to frown, and you picked up some of the papers to glance at them.

Most of them appeared to be schematics of the city back from the 1920s and 1930s, as well as random assortments of articles concerning things that only appeared to have the slightest association with Les Chats.

Hell, he even had an article about pigeon breeding, causing you to smile as you recalled a similar article from your days researching your dissertation.

You placed it back on the bed, picking up the next article and reading it.

It appeared to be about cats from Amsterdam at some point in the 1940s beginning to disappear, house cats slipping out of their homes and, if eyewitnesses were to be believed, reappearing in some forest a few hours from the city.

You were more inclined to believe it was that the townspeople began to starve during the German occupation and turned to other forms of meat, the sheer thought making you shudder.

For the hell of it you looked up the supposed location of their reappearance, Clarke still speaking intently to his contact, and your eyes widened.

It was the same location that James and Sam were currently in.

You got up, the article in your hands as you approached, patiently waiting for Clarke to finish speaking to his contact.

He looked at you with curiosity, and you held up the article for him to read. He frowned, shaking his head and you weren't sure if it was at you or what his contact was saying.

He sighed as he hung up, rubbing his eyes and you clasped his arm gently.

"You alright?" You asked as he lowered his hand, and he gave you a small smile as he nodded. You stood on your toes, kissing him quickly and he smiled a little wider as you settled back on your feet. "I think I know why Sam and James are in some random forest."

You placed the article in Clarke's hands, and he looked confused before he began to read it.

"I know it's only rumours from the Second World War, but the location matches up. Maybe it has something to do with Emilie and Marie and we just haven't found the connection yet?" You asked hopefully.

"There's no official historical evidence for it, though," Clarke replied with a frown, placing the article back in your hands. "Everything else we've found in the journal matches up with something with historical credibility. That article is just a long shot that might end in failure."

"Or it could be successful," you countered. "Clarke, we came here on the barest of historical evidence. All we had was a journal."

You went back to said journal, picking it up and holding it out to him for emphasis.

"We've just been lucky that a lot of what's written here has something concrete," you declared. "But we've been doing this for two weeks now, and we're nowhere close to even seeing the barest hint of some clue."

You set down the journal on the bed, approaching him before you placed your hand on his cheek.

"I know you said you wanted to wait until we had enough to work with..." you began.

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing," Clarke replied as he stepped away from you. "I've been doing this a lot longer than you have, remember?"

You frowned at his tone as he rubbed his eyes.

"And in fact, I was planning to pursue something today. My contact said that he has access to some of the local archives, and we both think it might be useful to act as a guide as to what to do next."

"Oh. Then let's go," you declared with a smile, and Clarke shook his head.

"Just...me and him are going. The archive is small and has delicate materials, it apparently only allows two people in at a time to make sure everything remains preserved."

You frowned.

"That seems odd," you declared.

Clarke kissed your forehead.

"That's Europe for you," he replied, stroking back some of your hair. "Besides, the doctors said you should rest, give your arm time to heal properly."

You opened your mouth to protest when his phone rang again, and he checked the screen before he responded.

"Marie? Yes I'm about to go out actually. Chasing a lead. Uh huh. Uh huh," he spoke, looking at you apologetically and you sighed.

It seemed like he was barely off the phone these days, any time you might have had to ask about Sam's mysterious disappearing message used for sleep, either you or him falling sleep almost as soon as your heads hit the pillow.

He helped to settle you into bed as he spoke with his cousin, and you sighed as he gathered his things and slipped out the door without saying goodbye.

This was becoming more and more common, and you wondered if he had meant anything he had said that night that had convinced you to try...whatever this was with him.

If Sam had been no professionalism then Clarke was the polar opposite, constantly keeping to task and rejecting most playful advances if he was working. Which seemed to be most of the time now.

You felt a guilty knot in your stomach for wishing you had the former back. At least with Sam you had some idea where you stood, even if you had turned out not to be on the same page at the end of it all.

The guilty knot only twisted further as you slipped out of bed, awkwardly getting your jacket on as you looked up the fastest train to this mysterious forest that seemed to occupy Sam and James' attention.

Maybe Clarke was right and there was nothing there. Maybe Sam was right and there was something of use.

There was no harm in looking, right?

You'd been spending your time bored out of your skull in an expensive hotel room otherwise.

Might as well put your time to good use.

\-----------------------------------------///------------------------------------------------------

Sam felt something nudge against his leg in the growing darkness and he let out a sharp yelp.

James chuckled, turning on his flashlight and pointing it downwards to see a tabby cat with the brightest of blue eyes looking back at the two of them.

"Must be close. This has been the fifth cat we've seen," James declared, pointing his flashlight at his notes.

"Thought they were supposed to be feral," Sam murmured as the cat brushed up against him again before it walked away.

"There's a town an hour over that probably feeds them," James retorted, his flashlight moving slightly to expose multiple pairs of eyes from feline faces staring at them.

Sam shuddered a little at the sight. He was ambivalent when it came to most cats, but this evening was starting to turn his ambivalence into a state of uneasiness.

There was just something concerning about that many cats in one place.

James held the flashlight in his mouth as he opened up the article again, skimming it for what felt like the fifteenth time and Sam wanted to snatch it away from him.

They'd been wandering this damn forest for what felt like a few hours, awkwardly trying to navigate over brambles and through the trees.

The cats were a recent and surprisingly welcome development until Sam saw the sheer mass of them. Now it just felt like a million pairs of eyes were on him waiting to see him fail.

A grey cat with thick fur comically appeared to be leading them, one eye amber and the other sapphire, waiting expectantly when they fell behind and meowing loudly when they began to walk in the wrong direction.

"Take us to your leader," Sam declared at one point, James giving him a pointed look. "What? It's funny."

"Uh huh," James replied with a cock of an eyebrow.

"Shut up."

They walked in silence, hearing the cats move around them in the underbrush and Sam repressed a sharp shudder.

When they emerged in a clearing, the remains of a cottage apparent Sam nearly let out a cry of relief when James clapped his hand over Sam's mouth.

Sam let out a surprised grunt, looking over at James as the other man quickly nodded in the direction of the house.

Sam squinted in the darkness, at first not sure what the hell James thought he was seeing. There was nothing there except for a few cats sauntering around, and Sam removed James hand to tell him so when he stopped.

One sprinted up to something, letting out a loud meow that seemed to echo around them and a figure let out a shushing sound as they knelt down.

Their hand stroked through the cats fur as they murmured something, the cat darting away causing them to stand up.

"Local?" Sam asked quickly, James shaking his head.

"The locals from what I've heard are suspicious, you don't go here at night unless you wish to be cursed," James replied, Sam looking at him with a smirk.

"By what? Constantly being covered in cat hair?" He retorted with a laugh, and James shushed him quickly.

The figure approached some of the rubble, kneeling down and appearing to brush away dirt from the stones.

One of the cats sauntered ahead of them onto the floor, paw prints left in the dust and the figure stood up.

The figure tentatively stepped onto the floor, a small creak going through the clearing and they inhaled sharply.

Sam found himself leaning forward in interest as the figure stood there silently, one of their arms poised as the other hung by their side.

When nothing else happened they took another step forwards, and as a louder creak went through the air the cat scrambled away. It went to join the crowd that seemed to be gathering around the rubble like some ritual was being performed, and another shudder went through Sam.

The figure stepped forward again, and the telltale sound of wood splintering cracked through the stillness of the evening. Dust swirled up as the figure plummeted out of view with a loud, feminine scream.

"Holy shit," Sam breathed, looking at James who met his eyes with sheer horror. The pair of them barely hesitated to run into the clearing, and Sam prayed they weren't about to run into danger.

He'd made bad calls before based on instinct, his multiple scars proof of that. Not to mention the three bullet wounds on his stomach.

"Oh God, oh fuck oh God oh fuck oh fucking Christ," a very familiar voice began rambling, James stopping in confusion as Sam practically sprinted towards her.

Sam somehow was able to stop himself before he went over the lip of the sudden edge, glancing down and meeting the eyes of [Y/N].

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she groaned as she lay there, spread-eagled on the floor and Sam couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "Fuck you."

James joined Sam at the edge, pulling out his cell phone as he tentatively glanced down into the abyss.

When he saw it was [Y/N] his eyes widened, and when she sat up with a groan he began speaking rapidly.

"Don't move, I'm going to call someone to get you out of there," James declared. "Is there anything broken?"

"Besides my pride? No," she retorted, and Sam chuckled at that. "Got lucky. Landed on my back, it took most of the fall."

She rubbed her back as James held up his phone, turning this way and that in the familiar dance to try and get a signal.

"Shit, it's a dead zone out here," James murmured, lowering his phone as he looked at Sam. "You getting anything?"

Sam tested out his phone, shaking his head when he found no signal and James let out a frustrated groan.

"You think there might be one in the town?" James asked, and Sam glanced down at [Y/N] who was beginning to shake her head.

It was almost as if she could anticipate James' next words.

"We shouldn't just leave her out here. I'll go into town, you stay and make sure she's doing alright," James ordered. "If something happens...uhh, sprint to town, I guess..."

James glanced down at [Y/N], now sporting a displeased glare.

"I promise I'll come back as soon as I can with help," he declared with a smile, quickly running towards the main road.

"Wait! Don't...leave me with him," she trailed off before she sighed.

She met Sam's eyes, and he gave her a small smile before he sat on a nearby stone.

"So, you wanna tell the first story or should I?" Sam asked, and she looked up at him with a frown. "We're gonna be here for a while babe, might as well do something to pass the time."

"Don't call me babe," she declared sharply, and Sam pursed his lips.

"Alright sweetheart," he declared, and she looked at him sharply causing him to chuckle. "Calm down, just kidding."

She didn't respond, glaring at him as she stood up and began wandering the room.

Meanwhile, Sam tried to ignore the thirty pairs of cat eyes watching them silently.

He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it before he took a deep inhale.

This was going to be a long night, he could already tell.

Might as well enjoy what he could. 


	13. Our Decisions Shape Us

Chapter 12: Our Decisions Shape Us

The smoke danced in the evening air, the tip of his cigarette glowing in the darkness as you felt his eyes watch your every movement.

You ran your fingers over the cool stones of the basement walls, looking for a loose brick, a marking, anything to direct you towards something of use.

All you seemed to be finding was rubble, and Sam watching your failure wasn't exactly helping matters.

"So what's it like down there?" Sam called out.

You didn't respond, taking in the simplistic wooden table and what looked like dried spices and the like on the shelves. Typical fare for someone living in the country, it seemed.

"You're gonna have to talk to me at some point, y'know," Sam continued, taking in a deep lungful of smoke.

"Clearly you don't know how stubborn I can be," you muttered as you went back to the walls.

You noticed a smaller adjoining room which appeared to be mostly intact, and you strode towards it purposely.

You turned on the flashlight of your phone, scanning it over the room and letting out a yelp when you saw a few rats scurrying away.

Well. That explained the plethora of cats then. Could probably sense the potential meals crawling in the walls.

There was a long string hanging from the ceiling, frayed and broken at the end, and when you cast your light down to the floor your stomach leapt into your throat.

You picked up the journal, flipping through it quickly, your eyes widening.

It had....everything. Descriptions of cities and towns where the hordes of goods were placed, confirmed the existence of other smuggling networks, and from the looks of it named all of Les Chats' allies.

If you were looking for the master key, this was it.

You didn't hesitate to stuff the journal into your satchel, thankfully not damaged during your fall.

You came back out of the room to see Sam looking at you expectantly, and you didn't say a word.

You looked at the wall leading up to the surface, climbable to a certain degree if it wasn't for your arm.

You frowned before you turned around, your back sliding against the wall as you sat down.

You checked your phone, the battery close to dead, and you swore to yourself gently.

You shut it off, slipping it into your bag beside the journal before you closed your eyes and sighed.

"So, nothing down there I take it?" Sam asked, and you let out a sharp huff.

"Look, I'm exhausted Sam. I've spent two hours by train to get out here and I've just fallen what's probably three feet onto a stone floor. I just...don't want to talk."

"Alright, alright," Sam replied gently.

You heard him shifting around up there and despite your curiosity you kept your eyes closed.

"So...what's it like working with Clarke anyways?"

"Thought I said I didn't want to talk," you replied.

"That bad, huh?" Sam asked, and you opened your eyes.

"It's great, actually," you snarled. "Unlike some people he thinks before he leaps."

"Didn't realize you were into that," Sam replied.

"Everyone is into that, Sam," you countered. "Except adrenaline junkies and impulsive treasure hunters."

"Was the latter supposed to be directed at me?" Sam asked with a small laugh, and you didn't join in.

You sighed, resting your head against the cool stone.

"Y'know, I could never figure out why Abbie screwed him," Sam continued, and you huffed out a sigh in frustration at the fact he was still talking. "Seemed like he'd just spend the entire time reciting history lectures."

"As opposed to crying out in Spanish?" You found yourself replying.

Sam's laugh could only be described as lecherous.

"What can I say? She was into it and I was happy to oblige," Sam retorted and you made a sound of disgust.

"I know, I think the whole damn motel could hear the pair of you going at it," you spat in revulsion.

"Ah. Is that why you were quiet as a mouse?" Sam teased, and you shook your head as you sighed.

You were looking straight ahead, trying not to linger on his words and failing miserably. Because now all you could think about was him practically begging in your ear, his hands on your hips as you wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

You were grateful for the surrounding darkness, your cheeks practically burning.

"Why does this seem to be a priority of yours to talk about?" You asked in frustration, and Sam laughed.

"Passing the time," he retorted. "Why, you got a better idea?"

"Then talking about your sex life? Sure," you replied. "But that would require talking to you. Which I don't want to do."

Sam chuckled, some of the smoke from his cigarette drifting above your head.

There was a minute or so of silence, and you wondered if Sam had simply given up and walked off to the road that eventually lead into town to wait there.

"Screwing Clarke wasn't enough, huh? You have to shut me out too," Sam murmured more to himself than you, and you bristled.

"Maybe I just don't want to talk to anyone," you retorted. "And what I do with him is none of your concern, is it?"

Another inhale of smoke, another pause before he spoke.

"You have to admit, the timing's a little too coincidental," Sam declared.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked testily.

"I leave, suddenly he swoops in and tries to pick up the pieces. Real knight in shining armour moment."

"And that bothers you?"

He didn't respond.

"Why? Because I'm actually happy with someone who isn't you?" You continued sharply. "That maybe I'm choosing someone who might be able to give me what I've always wanted? Who isn't going to give me some bullshit about just being friends when he clearly knows I care about him?"

Sam still wasn't talking, and you scoffed.

"What? Hit a nerve there?" You asked coldly. "Good."

You heard Sam let out a long sigh, the smoke appearing above you before it sounded like he crushed the rest of it under his foot.

"[Y/N], I don't know where you got the idea that I don't care about ya, but....shit," he interrupted himself, and you were about to look up at him when he practically slid down the wall, landing with a sharp thump beside you.

You looked at him in confusion, opening your mouth to ask what he was doing when he held a finger up to his lips. He gestured towards the surface and you risked a glance up when you heard a series of gunshots.

You jumped in shock, your heart thumping in your chest as you heard the cats yowling and screeching, someone yelling in Dutch as they scattered.

One of them fell into the basement, its claws digging into your leg as it landed and you let out a sharp yelp, the cat scurrying away into the corner of the room.

You and Sam sat there in silence, listening to the footsteps above you and you suspected if you tried to call out for help you might just receive a bullet instead of a helping hand.

The footsteps faded away, the grass crunching under their feet and the only sound was Sam's and your heavy breaths, his from the exertion and yours from the shock.

"Holy shit," Sam breathed, the cat still cowering in the corner, and you nodded.

"The town must think the cats are pests, they're just trying to scare them off," you reasoned, and Sam met your eyes.

"With guns?" He asked skeptically, his eyes wide....and for some reason you began to giggle.

The giggle soon became a laugh, slowly growing until you were practically in hysterics, the shock giving way to insanity apparently and to your relief Sam appeared to be doing the same thing.

"Holy shit," you declared, feeling Sam's thumb trace over the top of your hand comfortingly, and you realized in your shock you had reached out for it.

"Well that would be an interesting way to go. Death by cat hunters," Sam murmured, releasing your hand as he turned his body to face you. "You alright?"

You smiled a little.

"I wasn't the one at the risk of being seen and shot," you retorted.

"I would have been fine up there," he replied.

"Uh huh. That's why you threw yourself into the pit of doom, right?" You replied, and Sam chuckled as he met your eyes. You noticed he was beginning to sport a five o'clock shadow, bags forming under his eyes, the picture of pure exhaustion, and you laughed a little. "Or maybe you thought your face might scare them into shooting you and didn't want to take the chance."

"Why must you always wound me so?" Sam asked with a sigh, looking you over. "Some of us are not blessed with always looking like angels despite the lack of sleep, y'know."

You expected to bristle at said comment, but all it did was make a familiar flutter in your stomach as you chuckled.

"Keep that up and you might convince me to actually talk to you," you murmured.

"Oh? Is that not what we were doing?" Sam asked as he looked at you, a teasing smile on his lips and his eyes filled with such affection it made you forget for a few moments that you were in some cold room in the middle of the ground.

You shivered and Sam removed his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders automatically, and you realized it was the first kind action in days someone had done for you.

"You do this for all the people you find trapped in holes in the ground?" you asked with a small smile.

"You know, you would be stunned how common a situation it is," Sam declared conspiratorially. "Starting to wonder if someone's got a thing for digging holes."

You smiled, and for some reason it made Sam sigh.

"Christ, you're starting to make me think I should have just said I loved you to keep you from leaving," he murmured, and your stomach plummeted.

"You wouldn't have meant it though," you murmured as you looked at the opposite wall. "Would have just made things worse in the end."

"Maybe," he retorted. "But I didn't...."

He swallowed audibly.

"I have always cared about ya. Since the moment you got shot back on that Swedish island where you and Abbie were doing your research."

Sam laughed to himself, scratching his chin.

"Barely knew ya, and there I was worrying about ya in the next room. You just..." he continued before he stopped and sighed. "You even want any of this?"

You looked at him with a frown.

"Want what?" You asked gently.

"The whole treasure hunting thing. Searching the globe for scraps of clues that might not even exist, risking finding yourself at the end of a gun for crossing the wrong people, forming allies that might cross ya."

"It's not the worst thing in the world," you replied with a shrug. "Least I get to use my history degree, right?"

You sighed a little.

"And sometimes you learn more from failure than success," you murmured. "Teach yourself to take the highs and try not to linger on the lows."

"Well I don't think you can get much lower than being in a hole in the ground so it's only up from here kid," Sam retorted.

"You forget with the former friend, current frenemy to finding the treasure of Les Chats du Guerre," you reminded him.

"Frenemy?" Sam asked as his eyebrows rose. "So there might be hope for me after all. And here Nathan and Elena were so worried I wasn't going anywhere."

"Ouch, even your own brother is losing faith in you?" You asked with a mock wince. "Maybe it's time to start thinking about your choices."

He looked up at the night sky and smiled.

"What's the fun in that though?" He asked, his head resting against the wall.

"Maybe you need to stop thinking about what's fun is right," you murmured, looking at him intently. "You...you might be hurting people more than you realize."

Sam chuckled.

"I'm impulsive, not oblivious," Sam murmured as he looked at you. "It's just...you ever spend time in prison?"

"You're not about to use prison as an excuse for your behaviour, are you?" You asked, and he grinned.

"Why would I ever do that?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows and you chuckled a little. "No, it's...."

He looked back at the night sky, sighing to himself as he pulled out another cigarette from the jacket. You felt his fingertips against your hip as he searched for his lighter and it made your heart rate spike.

He eventually found it, lighting the cigarette before he placed the lighter back in his jacket pocket.

"I spent thirteen years of my life in pure hell, and it....it fucked up any priorities I thought I had," he declared bluntly, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I mean, I never wanted the wife and kids. Already raised Nathan, that was enough for me. Course Sullivan helped. Not well, but he helped."

Sam chuckled, the smoke escaping his mouth.

"Between the two of us it was a shock Nate ever wanted anything domestic," Sam declared, and you laughed. "But...I dunno. Wanted...something more than probably what I deserved."

He took a deep inhale, letting out the smoke in a long stream.

"Actually maybe prison only heightened my priorities. Wanted the glory, the adventure," he continued, looking at you. "The girl at my side."

Sam smiled.

"You'd think I took Indiana Jones to be gospel or something," he murmured. "Hell, I even remember telling my mom I wanted to be an archaeologist. Thought the job entailed beautiful women and fast cars."

You chuckled at that.

"But then you saw how much work it was?" You asked with a grin.

"Nah. Was in and out of school so much that I barely got to see a history class," Sam replied, and you felt your features soften. "Oh c'mon. I wouldn't have been smart enough for it anyway."

Sam smiled at you.

"Not all of us got both brains and beauty."

"So you just got the beauty then?" You asked as your eyebrows rose, and he smirked.

"But of course. Michelangelo would have killed for his sculptures to look like me," he replied, and you cackled causing him to pull his features into mock misery. "Like an arrow to my heart."

You looked at him, breathing in the scent of cigarettes from the coat around your shoulders.

"So...you tried to fulfill those priorities once you got out? By any means possible?" You murmured. "Not even caring who might get hurt in the process?"

To your surprise, Sam didn't try to deflect. He just sighed and nodded.

"Nearly got my brother killed, and then...well," Sam replied before he met your eyes. "I...I didn't think it was necessary to tell you what I wanted out of...what happened."

"Because it was easier?" You asked, and Sam let out a small laugh.

"Because why would you want some old man for anything more than a casual screw?" Sam replied. "It wasn't like you'd get any benefit out of it. And I didn't mind. I mean, what guy doesn't like a beautiful young woman on his arm to flaunt, right?"

The words stung and you tensed.

"But you wanted...you still want the guy who will come home from some desk job, read the kids stories at night and then fall asleep with you in his arms," Sam declared. "And I think we both know that's never going to be me."

He took your hand and clasped it gently.

"But...that doesn't mean I don't want...what we had," he murmured, intertwining your fingers. "That we can't be...content with that for now."

Sam chuckled mirthlessly.

"We both know you'll leave me eventually. Women like you don't stick around for long."

You bristled at that.

"Why? Because all women under 30 are flighty little sluts with no sense of commitment?" You asked sharply. "I mean, I know that's what you want but I'm sorry to say, that's..."

He met your eyes, chuckling a little.

"Because you just..." he began. "Good women don't stay for...me. Former criminals with a chip on their shoulder don't tend to fit the life you want."

Sam smiled.

"If anything you're better off with former professors."

"If this is you trying to convince me to defect to your side, you're doing an awful job of it," you declared with a small smile.

"I'm just stating fact," he murmured, leaning in closer. "Thought you historians liked that sort of thing."

He reached out, tucking the jacket in closer around you and you winced as he jostled your arm a little.

"Sorry," he murmured. He continued to hold the jacket, his fingers curled around the lapels as he frowned a little.

You were about to ask him what the look was for when he met your eyes.

"You should drop the case," Sam murmured, and you shifted away from him as something sharp went through your frame.

And just like that, whatever...contented moment you two had vanished.

"Why? So you can claim it all for yourself?" You asked sharply. "Or are you going to try to convince me to join you again?"

"[Y/N], listen...." he began and you shook your head.

"I've worked harder than you to get here and I'm not going to just give up on it. Not for anyone," you retorted firmly.

Sam's hand reached up, stroking your cheek with his thumb and as you tried to move away his hand curled around the back of your head.

"I don't wanna see you get hurt again," Sam murmured and you scoffed.

"Convenient excuse to get me out of the way."

You tried to move only for his other hand to clasp your head, both hands travelling down to the nape of your neck.

"Fine. You're right," Sam declared. "That's definitely what I want to do. Especially since I'm spending more time worrying about ya than actually finding the treasure."

He said the last part with a small laugh and it made your stomach knot.

"Look, you don't owe me a damn thing," Sam murmured, shifting closer. He tilted your head up. "But promise me if it all goes to hell, you just run."

"You want me to give up? To make things easier for you?"

He chuckled, pressing his mouth against your forehead.

"I want to know you're safe," he murmured against your temple, finally releasing you. "You've already been shot because of me. Couldn't live with another injury on my conscience."

"It's not your burden to bear Sam," you murmured, and you were stunned to find you sounded...genuine. "I chose this, remember?"

"Doesn't mean I have to like it, does it?" Sam asked with a small smile, and you felt a sharp sting behind your eyes.

"Stop it, you're making it really hard to be pissed off at you," you muttered, and Sam chuckled.

He leaned in close, waggling his eyebrows.

"Yes, my cunning plan has succeed."

You let out a strangled laugh, cupping your mouth as if it would contain the sound.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, resting his chin on top of your head.

You knew you should have been kicking and screaming, calling him an ass, declaring for all the world to hear how he had broken you.

But you'd said it all before. You kept making the same damn arguments, with him and yourself.

And you were so damn tired.

So you tucked your head into his neck, the tears falling freely, his hand stroking your back through the jacket as he let out a long sigh.

"It always seems to end like this," he mused, looking up for a moment. "Hope Clarke doesn't make you cry this much."

You laughed brokenly.

"No, that honour is reserved just for you," you replied, leaning back to meet his eyes. "Should start charging you for water damages."

He smiled, wiping some of your tears away with his thumb as his other hand rested on your hip.

"Or maybe you should just invest in flood insurance," he murmured. "Heard it's cheap this time of year."

"Or maybe I should just stop being interested in men who are bound to shatter me," you replied gently, nudging his shoulder.

The cigarette hung between his fingers, slowly burning and long forgotten as the two of you watched each other.

He stubbed out the cigarette, tossing it aside.

"Need I remind you of our little deal about Clarke?" He murmured.

"It wasn't about Clarke," you replied gently, the two of you drawing closer and closer. "He's not going to hurt me like you did."

Sam made a low sound, nodding.

"There's...I don't expect..." you fumbled to say, whisky-brown eyes meeting yours. "I mean, I know he didn't come through the last time but..."

He nodded for you to continue, the two of you only inches apart now, and there was a familiar spike low in your belly.

"Sam...I...." you began.

"[Y/N]!" A familiar voice declared, and your eyes widened.

"Clarke?" You asked in surprise. You looked at Sam and at your current position, your stomach plummeting and you scrambled away.

You stood up and brushed yourself off, standing back a few metres as you looked up.

Clarke stood there, surrounded by a few townspeople as one of them lowered a ladder.

You glanced at Sam, slowly beginning to rise to his feet and you realized you were still wearing his jacket.

You handed it to him, his hand lingering on yours for a few moments too long.

You did your best to navigate the ladder with your one hand, the bag with the journal on your back as you practically stumbled into Clarke's arms.

He ran his hands over your face, your good arm before he pulled you in close.

"Oh thank God you're alright," Clarke murmured. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you were coming here?"

"You wouldn't listen, remember?" You replied gently. "Where's your ally anyways."

"Uh...he's at home, actually. Something about going to a dinner tonight. Came back to the hotel room early to surprise you and you weren't there."

He kissed you sweetly, and you felt something warm blossom in your chest.

"Christ, you had me worried there," he murmured against your cheek as he hugged you.

He went to move away when you pulled him closer, meeting his mouth with yours and deepening the kiss.

He let out a low hum of approval, his hands resting on the small of your back.

"Promise me you won't do that again," Clarke declared. "The thought of you getting hurt..."

It made you think of your conversation with Sam, and you frowned at the guilt of what you had almost allowed to happen.

You kissed him softly as you heard someone ascending the ladder.

"I'm fine, Clarke," you murmured. You saw Sam watching you out of the corner of your eye and you clasped Clarke's hand. "Just...take me home, please."

He nodded, wrapping his arm around your shoulders before he led you away.

"Sure. Meeting with our ally in the city for lunch anyways."

When you glanced back, James was speaking to Sam, though the latter continued to watch you.

Your eyes met for a moment.

You were the first to look away.

Despite a growing part of you that didn't want to.

You had Clarke. That was enough. That had to be enough.

You wouldn't keep lingering on the past.

\----------------------///---------------------------

Well, Sam had been wrong about one thing.

Clarke didn't recite lectures in the slightest.

You had not known what to expect after it had happened, once the afterglow settled between you.

Hell you had not known what to expect when you practically dragged him into bed.

But all you seemed to feel was...fine. Not excellent, nor good, but just...fine.

You could be content with this, with him. You knew that for a fact.

His cell phone began to ring, and he groaned sleepily.

Like all men he'd practically fallen into a coma after the event, and you snickered when his hand shot out from under the covers.

He answered with a sigh.

"Abbie. We're already meeting for lunch, we don't need to talk again, remember?" He mumbled, and your blood became ice cold.

Pricking every inch of you as you looked at Clarke, rapidly coming to the realization of what he had just said.

"Abbie, I'm sorry, I have to go. Yeah. Yeah yeah. Night."

He hung up, meeting your eyes.

"I suppose you're gonna want an explanation."

"Oh no, not at all," you replied sarcastically. "Especially for your reasoning to work with Abigail Clarke again. I mean, concerning everything that's happened."

"It's...complicated."

You crossed your arms, meeting his eyes sharply.

"Then simplify it for me."


	14. Not So Blissful Reunion

Any gratefulness that he'd finally shown some form of warmth and affection towards you when he came to retrieve you from that basement rapidly faded.

Especially when Clarke wasn't brave enough to try to face you on his own.

Which was how you had ended up in some cafe at 6 am, sitting across from the woman you had once happily worked for.

She spun the gold ring around her finger absentmindedly, her ginger locks pulled back just so, the picture of the discontented housewife.

"Can't tell if you did this to spite me or it's just a coincidence," Abbie murmured to Clarke.

She had taken one look at you and somehow knew what had taken place, and you hated yourself for it.

"You want the honest answer?" Clarke asked with a skeptical look, and she shrugged.

"Might be a nice change," she countered.

Her cell phone rang and she looked at you apologetically, pulling it out from her pocket before she answered.

It was a...strange transformation, the woman who had been cool and collected a moment before becoming warm and bright.

"How are you my sweethearts?" She practically cooed. "Please tell me you're not giving the nanny any trouble?"

She laughed at something, you and Clarke sitting there awkwardly as she spoke to her kids.

You'd been stunned when Sam had told you about them, somewhere between your first night together and the moment you knew it was no longer worth trying to pursue.

Abbie had never struck you as maternal, and yet there she was, all smiles and laughs as she spoke to her twins.

You knew it could be an act....but no one could act that well. She practically bubbled over with affection.

Her smile rapidly faded and she paused, her eyes darting over to Clarke.

"Yes he is sweetie. Hold on," she declared, holding the phone away from her ear. "Your son wants to speak to you. Try at least to make an effort this time..."

Your eyes widened as your stomach plunged, and you watched Clarke speak to someone on the other end of the line with a certain awkward affection.

"He's...he's your husband," you breathed as you looked at Abbie, and she nodded almost glumly.

"Well. Separated, but technically yes," she replied, sending Clarke a sharp look. It was enough to scare him off, getting up from his seat and walking to the front doors to speak to...his CHILD outside.

His CHILDREN, actually.

"He didn't tell you, did he?" Abbie asked, and you shook your head. "Prick."

She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Doesn't tell anyone a single damn thing unless it won't bite him in the ass to say it," Abbie muttered.

You shifted awkwardly in your chair and Abbie met your eyes.

"It's alright," she declared with a surprisingly kind smile. "You didn't know."

"I..I wouldn't have done anything with him if I'd known..." you replied, and she nodded. "Sorry."

"So...how long has this been going on?" She asked.

"Not too long," you replied. "Thankfully."

"Thankfully?" She retorted as her eyebrows rose. "You don't like him?"

"Well, I...I mean. I like him enough," you replied awkwardly. "I...I mean he's nice and there's something there. Maybe. I don't know."

"But it's not some all-consuming passion is it?" She asked knowingly. "Where your every breath is in anticipation? And your heart always thuds just so at the thought of him?"

The image of a man with tousled brown hair, his features weathered but his smile young went through your mind, and Abbie saw the change in your expression.

"Ah. So you've met him then," she declared with a smirk. "And you're wasting time on Clarke...why?"

She gestured to Clarke, and you shrugged.

"He's not...the worst thing ever," you replied quietly.

"I know. I married him, remember?" She replied with a chuckle.

"How...did, you two get married?" You asked awkwardly.

"Usual place, chapel somewhere in...God it's awful but for the life of me I can't remember," Abbie replied with a laugh. "That should have been a warning sign. Anyways, quiet wedding, nice reception. Pretty standard, actually."

"I meant...well, you were with Sam at one point, right?" You asked.

"Indeed I was," she replied with a certain affection. "Too bad he got bored...."

"You...don't sound too upset about it," you pointed out, and she shook her head before she took a sip of her coffee.

"Well. I mean at the time it was really awful. But I think we both knew we weren't that good a fit, so I guess it all worked out," Abbie murmured. She laughed a little. "Not that me and Clarke are good either."

Abbie took a sip of her coffee, sighing.

"So who's the guy then?" She asked, changing the subject and you suddenly felt very, very uncomfortable with telling her.

Because you had no clue if she would still be this jovial towards you if she knew you'd been with not one, but two of her ex-lovers.

But...she was bound to find out eventually. If you didn't tell her Clarke probably would, and she looked like she barely wanted to be in the same room as him let alone talk.

"Uh, well, it's um..." you fumbled, taking a deep breath. "It's Sam. Sam Drake."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"I mean, it was," you rapidly corrected. "We, uhh...he wanted different things so I broke things off before it could..."

She took a sip of her coffee, setting down the mug.

"You left before he could," she murmured. "Wise choice."

She glanced over at Clarke.

"Should have done that with Clarke," she continued before she let out a dry chuckle. "But I thought I loved the bastard."

"You don't anymore?" You asked, and she frowned.

"I think...I think that doesn't matter anymore," she declared, finishing her coffee. "He clearly doesn't. I mean, month after we separated I found out he was with someone else."

You glanced at Clarke, still on the phone.

"But like I said, for the best," she continued, pasting on a smile. "I mean, you stab a man in the hand with a letter opener, might be a sign you two won't work out, right?"

You found yourself smiling a little at that.

"God, I went off the rails," Abbie murmured to herself more than you. "I would have been terrified of myself."

A waiter brought another coffee for Abbie and you realized you had barely touched your tea.

"Abbie?" You asked awkwardly, and she nodded. "If...well if you and Clarke aren't on the best of terms...why are you working together?"

Abbie laughed self-deprecatingly.

"Heard Clarke was searching for some treasure. For once, I actually wanted to be involved rather than at home with the kids," she explained. "I love them, but I...God I feel awful for saying this, but I miss what I had two years ago."

"You want to be a treasure hunter again," you replied, and she smiled before she nodded.

"Placed the kids with a temporary nanny, figured out where Clarke was and flew over," she declared. "Took him by surprise, actually. I mean, we've barely spoken for the last year."

She sipped her coffee, meeting your eyes.

"When we spoke, he never mentioned you," she continued. "Said he was trying to find this on his own with some assistance from his cousin back in Montreal."

Your stomach twisted sharply at that statement, and the pain must have been reflected in your features because Abbie tentatively reached across the table, her hand squeezing your wrist for a moment.

"I think we can both agree he's a bastard, huh?" She asked rhetorically as she released your wrist. "Especially when he gets on a case."

She lowered her voice, imitating him.

"Nothing matters but the case, Abbie. We must find the truth or risk someone else continuing to propagate lies."

You smiled at that, and Abbie mirrored it as Clarke returned.

He awkwardly passed Abbie back the cell phone, sitting down between the two of you, making it look like he was setting himself up for a firing squad.

"So....now what do we do?" Clarke asked quietly, looking between the two of you.

"Well, as far as I can see the three of us working together has gone well," Abbie declared, taking a sip of her coffee before she continued. "Might as well keep that going."

Clarke looked as surprised as you felt.

"But what about..." Clarke began, gesturing to you almost as if you were a nuisance and you bristled.

"Clarke, who you choose to screw is none of my business, is it?" Abbie retorted coolly, meeting your eyes and giving you an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

She smoothed down her shirt.

"Besides, I think we can all be professional about this. Finish the job and then we can work from there."

Clarke looked at you, trying to gauge your reaction and you knew how hesitant you looked.

You knew Abbie had just as much right as you to be here, and you felt guilty for wishing she had said she would be leaving.

"Besides, we can't afford to allow splintering in the ranks when it seems like Sam is only strengthening his," Abbie declared.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked gently, your heart thudding at the mention of his name and you felt so damn pathetic for it.

Had you not said you were going to move on from him?

"Ran into Victor Sullivan on the flight over here. Apparently Sam had him staying in France until he could confirm that there was anything to find in the Netherlands."

"So that puts us on equal footing," Clarke declared, and Abbie tensed.

"Not...exactly," she murmured.

"What does that mean?" Clarke asked sharply. "We've got the girl that knows the time period, we actually might have an advantage."

"The girl has a name, you know," you murmured tensely.

"But Sam might have the funds to do it," Abbie replied. "Clarke, this is a freelance job right? No connection to Anton Antiquities in the slightest?"

Clarke nodded uncertainly.

"So these are just rumours, but from what I've heard...well, what you two found on the last job is barely enough to cover the debt that Anton is in."

"So...what does that mean for us?" Clarke asked. "I mean, [Y/N] and I were planning to get out anyways, so it's not like..."

"Let me finish," Abbie retorted tensely to him. "So she's been draining her boy toy Adam Ferguson for funds. Long story short, he's concerned she's going to drain him completely."

Abbie looked at you.

"He has a significant fortune in the whisky business, but it's not limitless. So he's hedging his bets. Three investments."

"To Anton Antiquities," she counted off on her fingers. "To you and Clarke, since you helped him on the last job. He's a man who likes to repay his debts as soon as possible. And..."

"To Sam and his team," you murmured, and Abbie nodded.

"With the ones who find the treasure getting more," Abbie finished.

"You said Samuel has the advantage, though," Clarke asked with a frown. "If we're all supposed to get an equal investment, I don't see..."

"He's got a lead," Abbie interrupted. "Got talking to Sullivan, we both got a little drunk..."

Clarke looked at her sharply.

"Nothing happened," she replied just as sharply. "I'm not you."

"What's the lead?" You asked.

"Well, he could be lying, but Sam apparently was going to go to some cottage. He thought it might have something that's supposed to outline the whole trading network."

"The journal," you replied, and Abbie nodded. "But he doesn't have it. We do."

Abbie met your eyes, and you felt a sinking dread.

"He wouldn't...." you began.

"This is the great Samuel Drake we're talking about here," Abbie replied. "I've seen it. He does what he has to."

"Where did you put the journal?" Clarke asked you quickly.

"Guys...c'mon. He wouldn't do that," you replied defensively. "He has some sense of decency. We got the journal fair and square, he has to respect that....."

"Perhaps you think too highly of him considering...." Clarke began.

"No," you retorted firmly. "He wouldn't do that."

The pair of them looked at you skeptically and you felt an inkling of doubt begin to manifest.

"No...." you continued weakly, Clarke already tossing on his jacket.

"We need to head back," Clarke declared firmly. "Get the journal out of the room."

He bolted out of the cafe, Abbie lingering behind as you slowly pulled your jacket on.

"And he's off," she mused with a sigh.

She set down the proper amount of money for the coffee, and you followed her with some reluctance.

Clarke was practically sprinting towards the hotel, and you couldn't keep up. So you hung back, surprised when Abbie fell in step with you.

"As long as one of us gets there first, that's all that matters," Abbie declared. "Let Clarke play the hero for a bit."

There was a certain sadness in her eyes, and the question bubbled forth on its own.

"Was it Clarke? The one who made you feel like...well, all those things you said?" You asked quietly.

Her chuckle was mirthless.

"Course it was," she murmured. "Had a thing for him since the first day he was assigned to be my supervisor. It was inevitable he would break my heart."

She looked at you and smiled weakly.

"Just didn't expect him to give me an opportunity to see what it would be like...well, you know," she murmured.

You wished you didn't know.

And you wished you could say it was for the same man as her.

You practically trudged up to the hotel, Clarke practically shoving you and Abbie into the elevator.

He drummed his fingers against his legs and you tried to squeeze his arm, only for him to shift away.

Abbie smacked his arm and he looked at her sharply, no words exchanged before he reached out and took your hand.

"Sorry," he murmured like a child being forced to apologize.

You wrenched your hand out of his grasp, turned yourself towards the doors as you crossed your arms. You didn't want his pity.

"Well this isn't awkward," you heard Abbie murmur, and you chuckled mirthlessly to yourself.

Clarke was the one to lead the charge, practically bursting through the door.

You prayed for him to find nothing, but when you peeked inside your mouth fell open.

The whole room looked like it had been overturned, papers and clothes scattered around. The dresser drawers were all open, the TV tipped against the wall and you heard water running within the washroom.

Abbie gasped, and you followed her gaze to see a lean raven-haired man slumped against the kitchenette counter, blood dripping from the wound on his head into the sink.

Your eyes widened as you stumbled back into the hallway, your hand already reaching for your cell phone when Clarke clutched your wrist. He shook his head warningly, your heart thudding as the door to the bathroom opened.

Sam stepped out and muttered to himself, appearing to be trying to wipe his head with an expensive towel, already stained a pale red as he looked towards the three of you.

The journal was tucked under his arm, his eyes widening as he took the three of you in, his mouth beginning to open as Clarke stood in front of you protectively.

"Oh shit," Sam murmured. He set the journal down on the bed, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Okay. Yeah this looks bad, but I swear I can...."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Clarke snarled as you risked peeking out from behind him.

“Oh shit,” Sam murmured. He set the journal down on the bed, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay. Yeah this looks bad, but I swear I can….”

Sam looked at Abbie in surprise.

“What the….” he began.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Clarke snarled as you risked peeking out from behind him.

“Bout to ask her the same question,” Sam mused with a small smile before he saw you.

Sam's features softened as his eyes met yours.

"[Y/N]...." he began quietly, and you felt something akin to fear rising up inside you and you found yourself stepping further into the hallway, shaking your head.

Because you'd never seen this side of him before. This harsh, animalistic part of him that had bashed in the head of some man who had the misfortune to be in the same room as him, your heart thudding as you pressed your back against the opposite wall.

"You really are something else, aren't you?" Clarke growled, slipping off his jacket and Abbie placed a hand on his arm.

"Clarke, it isn't worth it," Abbie commanded, Clarke tearing his arm from her grasp. She stepped in front of him, holding her hands up as Clarke's fists clenched. "He already gave us the journal back. Just let him go."

"Who said I wasn't going to?" Clarke asked, curling and uncurling his hands as he glared at Sam. "Just maybe not as whole as when he walked in..."

"Clarke!" Abbie declared sharply, and you shook your head at the fact she sounded like she was trying to discipline a small child rather than a grown man.

"He tried to steal from us, Abbie. You're saying we should just let him walk away?" Clarke asked in disbelief.

"You hit him, you're no better than him," Abbie soothed, Sam letting out a sound of protest and she held a hand up to silence him.

Clarke met Sam's eyes, tensing his shoulders.

"Maybe I'm sick of being the better person," Clarke declared.

In the next moment Sam was on the ground, Abbie shoved to the side and screaming as Clarke landed blow after blow on Sam who didn't appear to be fighting back.

You tentatively walked into the room, hearing Clarke's fists hit bone as Sam appeared to just...lie there taking every punch.

Blood was dripping freely out of his nose as whisky-brown eyes met yours, Clarke's features twisted into something terrifying and you stepped back instinctively.

"You've proven your damn point, stop it!" Abbie screamed as you watched with a certain numbness, Sam's nose and mouth dripping red.

"It wasn't enough to steal her, was it? You had to get the damn treasure, and then she just ran into your arms didn't she?" Clarke screamed, clutching Sam's shirt before he slammed the other man against the ground. "Well I've got news for you buddy. You're not getting the girl this time. You're not even getting the damn treasure."

"You..."

Sam's frame collided with the floor again.

"Are going to...."

His fist connected with Sam's jaw, causing a loud crack to echo in the hotel room.

"Run back to Sully with your tail between your damn legs...."

A fist to the eye, the skin already beginning to swell at the sheer force.

"And you are going to leave. You hear me?" Clarke barked, and Sam gulped audibly, gasping through his mouth and you had never seen him look so vulnerable as in that moment.

Something swelled up inside you and you shoved Clarke as he went to hit Sam again, his arm pinwheeling and connecting with your jaw.

You screamed at the sheer pain of impact, stumbling back and into Abbie's arms. She turned you around, running her hands over your features almost maternally when you heard a sharp crack go through the air.

You turned your head to see Sam had Clarke pinned to the floor, landing blow after blow as blood dripped onto Clarke's shirt.

"That all you got pretty boy?" Sam growled as Clarke tried to fight back, Sam's mouth set in a grimace as he landed a final blow that knocked Clarke out cold.

He stumbled off of him, standing up as he wiped at his nose and mouth with the back of his hand before he looked at you.

He stepped towards you, his eyes brimming with concern and you stepped back, shaking your head.

"You touch me and I'll finish off the damn job," you declared, your eyes wide, detesting the man that stood in front of you as well as fearing him.

"[Y/N], listen...." Sam began, and you shook your head.

"Whatever explanation you think will save your ass, I don't want to hear it," you declared sharply, Sam's eyes looking at you softly.

"Okay, yes, I was here to steal the journal...." Sam began, and you tensed. "But I was....I mean..."

Sam gestured to Clarke passed out on the floor.

"You...look, something happened in that cellar last night and I...." Sam fumbled over his words as Abbie looked at you questioningly. "And you..."

He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"I know you've picked him. Probably all this will send you running into his arms with my luck..." Sam murmured more to himself than you. "But....Christ [Y/N], I was ready to tear his head off as soon as I saw the two of you together."

He chuckled mirthlessly.

"So I did what I do best. I leapt before I thought, and I decided I was going to get the journal for myself," Sam declared. He gestured to the man slumped against the counter. "Except he was here already, tearing through everything and I just....I dunno. Reacted to it."

You glanced back at the man, relieved when he let out a small groan.

"We should take him to a hospital," you murmured to Abbie, who met your eyes and shook her head.

"If he's conscious that gives us some time. I'll drop him off in the lobby, say something happened and then come back," Abbie declared, already moving before you could protest.

The door clicked closed behind her as she left, the man in tow and you found yourself alone with Sam Drake for the second time in just as many days.

And you didn't want to be there.

You didn't even want to be on the same continent as him. As any of them, actually.

"I was gonna leave the journal after that. It just....it didn't feel right to take it away from you," Sam continued, and you shook your head.

"I'm done," you murmured, crossing your arms.

"I mean...wait, what?" Sam asked with a frown. "Done with what?"

"You. Clarke. All this," you replied with a tiredness you didn't realize you'd been holding onto this entire time. "Sam, I....it seemed exciting at first, finding the long lost treasure of Les Chats, but now...."

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, gesturing to Clarke.

"I think this is a pretty damn clear sign from the heavens that this, all this, is only going to end with another broken bone or me in a body bag," you declared.

"I wouldn't let..." Sam began.

"How?" You interrupted. "We're on opposite sides now, remember? You can't protect me. I....I don't want you to. If this is how you would handle it, I don't want any part of it."

"So what, if someone attacks you I'm supposed to what, calmly talk them down?" Sam asked with a small chuckle.

"Sam, I'm....we both know I'm not meant for this kind of life. Sure, I can handle bad clients and historical research, but I'm not..." you began before you sighed. "I'm not the kind of woman you should have by your side for this. I can't kill someone in cold blood for my own self-preservation, I don't want to scale buildings and traverse through jungles just to find...nothing."

You smiled a little.

"I actually liked being your tech support. Kept me safe in my own cocoon but still part of it all," you murmured. "It was what I was good at."

"So do that. Come work for me and Sullivan. We can set you up with a nice desk, a good computer and we can go from there," Sam replied, tentatively stepping forward and you shook your head, stepping back.

"You have enough research for this one, Sam," you replied. "You don't need me."

"Course I need you," Sam replied gently. "I...I couldn't find that treasure without you in Newfoundland and I can't find Les Chats' horde either unless you're here."

You looked at the journal. You went towards it, picking it up and inspecting it before you took a deep breath.

You took one of Sam's hands, opening it gently before you placed the journal within it. You ignored the small jolt at the touch, closing his hand before you stepped back.

"Now you can," you murmured.

"You're...willing to sell out Clarke?" Sam asked in surprise.

"I just don't care, Sam," you replied. "If it's you or him, who cares. Someone gets to claim this grand treasure, someone gets the fame and glory, and eventually the cycle starts again."

You stepped back, kneeling down and rolling over Clarke, relieved when you heard him groaning.

"I'm going to bring Clarke down to the lobby. I'm going to get a plane back home. And this..." you murmured, helping sit Clarke up. "This ends now."

You met Sam's eyes.

"All of it."

You weren't sure what to expect, but it wasn't for Sam to square his shoulders, nodding as he crossed his arms.

"Fine."

He didn't elaborate, and you found yourself feeling disappointed as you opened the door, helping Clarke into the hallway.

"Take care of yourself Sam Drake," you murmured. "Hope you find...well, something worthwhile."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked as you stood in the doorway, and you looked at him over your shoulder.

"I just..." you fumbled. "You can't keep chasing treasures for the rest of your life Sam. I don't...."

Sam uncrossed his arms, and you sighed.

"I'd rather hear that you died old and content than young at the bottom of a pit looking for a treasure that wasn't even worth it in the first place."

You stepped into the hallway, keeping your gaze straight ahead.

"Just...promise me you'll always be careful, alright?" You murmured, and Sam didn't respond.

You closed the door, making your way back to the elevator, thankful when it came almost immediately.

It wasn't until the doors had closed that a sharp shudder went through you, your hand cupping your mouth and you closed your eyes.

You forced yourself not to cry again, not over him. He wasn't worth your tears anymore.

None of them were.

When the doors opened, you squared your shoulders, helping Clarke to the waiting medical team who were treating the poor man Sam had assaulted before you had arrived.

You said your goodbyes to everyone, Clarke sighing a little when you broke up with him, nodding in some understanding. You asked him to send your things, and Abbie agreed for him.

You walked out of the hotel room, the sounds of a bustling city greeting you. You chose a street, walking up it and allowing it to take you away from the chaos in the hotel behind you.

You swore you heard someone calling your name as you turned the corner, and you stopped.

You risked a glance back, not finding a familiar face amongst the crowd, and you squared your shoulders.

You nodded to yourself, and went onto the new street.

 


	15. Five Months Later /// Starting Over

You had been sidelined again from a grand treasure hunt, this time by your own volition.

And you couldn't lie to yourself. It felt awful at first. It felt like you had given up just because things had gotten too difficult, that the best thing to do was to go back and finish what you started.

Except you realized how toxic everything had become for you in the past few months. Your former boss had rapidly become your competition, Clarke had been nothing like you had wanted him to be, and Sam....oh Sam.

You had not believed the stories at first, about his capacity for violence, but you had seen it now. Learned exactly what the Drake brothers were able to do given the proper motivation.

There was no guarantee Sam wouldn't do the same to you if you were on opposite sides. So you decided to not give him the opportunity to even have to consider that decision.

Though you had to admit...you worried about him. Thought about him more in that first month than you wanted to, wondered if it was going to be him that won in the end.

You quit Anton Antiquities, feeling a bit more comforted in your decision when you saw how they were scrambling.

The once-pristine office was falling into disrepair, papers scattered everywhere and everyone running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to find this thing.

It had turned out the man in your hotel room had been one of Marie's newest hires, sent to find the treasure, and you had felt a knot of guilt that you were somewhat involved in his injuries.

He was officially retired now, back at home with his wife and kids, and you made sure to send them some flowers.

You felt a little better walking away from all that now, easily able to picture yourself left to either being an overworked employee or a critically injured retiree if you had stayed.

You had been lucky that Marie's payments were a decent amount, able to live off of it for a few months until your arm was healed and you could settle somewhere.

That somewhere turned out to be Edinburgh, Scotland. Working again as a research assistant for some professor, this time an older woman named Francesca Stewart who's main interests appeared to lie in archival research and expensive dinners.

Though you weren't invited to the latter, and that suited you just fine.

It wasn't some exciting existence, but you were genuinely content. Your boss was kind, you knew how to do the job, and best of all, it wasn't life-threatening in the slightest.

You had not realized you had let Sam go until someone asked you about a rumour that you had helped Clarke for a time try to claim some treasure scattered around Europe.

You didn't really miss him, and with time you slowly realized anything between you wouldn't have lasted anyway.

You had come to expect too much from a man that would never give you what you wanted from him, both times.

You had not just rushed into both relationships, you had sprinted, at first to fulfill some desire from two years ago and the second time to desperately try to move on from the first.

Which is why you decided to take a break from all that. You'd gone 25 years before now with no one by your side, what difference would it make now?

So the months passed by with you on your own, and by the fifth month you felt like you were honestly in a good place.

Which was precisely when one Victor Sullivan arrived.

As it turned out, your boss had known him in her younger years (and from the look in her eyes it had been quite an intimate knowledge) and he had come to her for some clue.

He'd recognized you instantly, greeting you and giving you a hug just as warm as his grin.

He didn't have much time to speak to you, and the one opportunity you might have had Francesca insisted you get some books for her from the campus library.

You didn't realize until you were walking over how much you wanted to ask Sully. About the adventure, the state of the treasures of Les Chats...if Sam seemed to be doing alright.

You felt someone collide with the side of your frame, causing you to let out a sharp gasp before an apology was already on your lips.

It died when your eyes met those of a warm whisky brown set in a lined face, looking down at you with surprise.

He looked the same as always, a little too rough to be in such an academic setting and for a moment you were tempted to tease him about it.

Except...he actually didn't look the same. There was a strange glint in his eyes that you'd never seen before, and the man who you'd known to come up with a quip at the drop of a hat seemed to be at as much for a loss of words as you were.

"Hi," you eventually settled on.

"Hey," Sam retorted gently, and you nodded. "You alright?"

"Right now or in general?" You asked, and he smiled warmly.

The simple action made something inside you ache that you thought you'd healed, something you'd moved on from.

Though you supposed one didn't get over their first love. Even if said love was never really returned.

"Both, I guess," he murmured.

"Not too bad," you retorted simply. "My life seems to be going well....have a decent job and I don't hate the work"

Sam scratched the back of his neck as you realized you were supposed to be getting the library books.

"Which I should be doing now," you declared with a small laugh. "You nearly distracted me there Sam."

Sam chuckled, his hands going into his jacket pockets.

"Nice to know I still have that type of influence," he murmured, and you found yourself smiling gently.

"How about you?" You asked politely, and Sam shrugged.

"Sullivan's working for some client who wants to sell off his antique ship model to the highest bidder. Came here as moral support."

"You don't have something of your own to work on?" You asked with a frown, and he scratched his cheek before he laughed self-deprecatingly.

"Well...some people are a little...skeptical with hiring me these days," he replied, and you frowned when he didn't elaborate.

"What? You screw a client's niece or something and word got around?"

You meant for it to be a joke and yet there was some truth in the statement for you.

He chuckled at that, shaking his head.

"It's...long and complicated, actually," he replied. "And you should probably get back to your work."

"Look at you," you marvelled. "Sounding all responsible and shit. Feel like I should record this to make sure I'm not dreaming it."

Sam laughed at that, meeting your eyes.

"More that I don't want ya to lose your job," he replied with a smile.

There seemed to be more that he wanted to say but didn't, and perhaps that was why you said the next words.

"You...can come with me if you want," you declared. "Francesca has a lot of books and I was wondering if I'd be able to take them all in one go."

Sam looked surprised, but he nodded.

The two of you walked in silence before you spoke.

"So. Tell me about this long-winded and complex narrative as to why you no longer have plentiful clients," you declared, and Sam laughed again.

"You're spending too much time with academics babe," he retorted, the pet name easily slipping from his mouth and you felt a sharp jolt go through you.

It...it wasn't a bad jolt though.

"Sorry. Old habits, y'know?" He asked rhetorically, following you as you made your way over to the reserved books.

"So what's the story then?" You asked, pulling down the books and shoving them into your backpack.

"Well...after you left, things...kinda went to shit, actually," he replied, your hands brushing as you passed him some of the books and he seemed to falter. "I, uhh, tried to find the treasure. Followed what I could, went through all the trials."

You made your way out of the library, nodding for him to continue as you walked through the main square of campus.

"Only to be beaten by Abigail and Clarke Baker," Sam declared with a dry laugh. "Don't know how they managed it, but they got there first."

Your eyes widened in surprise.

"So they claimed it all?" You asked before you shook your head. "Wait, never mind, stupid question, of course they did..."

Sam chuckled for some reason before he spoke.

"There was nothing to claim, actually," he replied, and you looked up at him in shock. "Oh yeah. Apparently in their elder years Marie and Emilie took back everything they could, selling the rest to the highest bidder."

Sam shook his head as you slipped into the building where Francesca worked.

"They went legitimate and didn't want someone to trace anything back to the First World War," he explained.

You shook your head.

"All that work for nothing," you murmured, and Sam smiled.

"I got something out of it all," he declared. "A journal any historian would kill for...and this."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a locket.

It dangled between his fingers, looking to be recently polished.

"Also something any historian would want," he continued as you stopped in front of Francesca's door.

"Gone out for lunch. Leave the books in the hall. Take the day off on me," you read out loud. "Well that's...interesting."

"She's probably trying to get alone time with Victor," Sam declared as he set down the books, and you shuddered at the implication.

"Well that's something I don't want to think about," you confessed, Sam's laugh warm.

"Trust me, me neither," Sam declared as you placed the books in the hall. "Old men like him shouldn't risk their hearts like that..."

"Somehow I think he'll be fine," you murmured with a laugh.

You felt Sam's eyes on you and you shifted automatically.

"So...you..." you began.

"You wanna get a drink or something?" Sam interrupted, almost nervously and you nodded before you could think about it.

"Drinks sound good. Besides," you replied. "Feel like there's a lot more to this tale, isn't there?"

"Oh, you have no idea..."

\-----------------------///-------------------------

"Alright, so what do you wanna hear about first? The women or the treasure?"

[Y/N] chuckled at that, a warm sound that Sam had realized he had missed a lot more than he had let on.

He'd missed a lot about her, actually.

"Somehow I feel like the women will inevitably come up," she teased.

"Well of course. It's their treasure after all," he countered, and she seemed to flush in embarrassment. "Ah. You thought..."

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, chuckling to himself.

"Nah. That hasn't..." he fumbled. "I haven't...I mean I've actually been focusing on the jobs too much for...any of that."

Her eyes widened.

"Yeah. I know. I don't know how it happened either."

That was a lie. He knew. He knew very well why there had not been anyone else for the past five months.

Because it just...something had faded in him after everything. It didn't seem...worth it.

If he didn't know any better he'd say it was because he was waiting for a certain someone to come back.

"So, uhh....the women..." she began awkwardly, stirring her drink with her straw before she took a small sip.

"Yeah, them..." Sam replied gently as he took her in, still trying to process that she was in fact sitting across from him, stunning as all hell.

And likely no longer interested. Not that he blamed her for it.

"Uh, anyways. So, it turns out we were wrong about one major detail," Sam continued. "The cousins, uhhh, weren't cousins. If ya catch my drift."

She looked confused before her eyes widened, and he chuckled.

"Oh," she replied. "Well. That...wouldn't have been easy back then."

"Yup. James has the theory the treasure got sold off in order to get enough money for them to run away to a place they could live in peace. But one of them was stubborn and wanted to stay, so they settled in Europe and let the rumours flow."

"And, uhh, Joan knew about this?" She asked gently, and Sam shook his head.

"She thought they were second-cousins. Close, but not...that according to something Clarke showed me."

"You've spoken with Clarke?" She asked with a frown, and Sam shrugged.

"Once I wasn't a threat to his treasure or his girl, there wasn't any reason he wouldn't," Sam replied with a small smile. "Not that I really wanted to talk to him...."

"Well the last time you spoke he beat you to a pulp," she countered. "I never really understood why you let him do that. Based on the end it seemed like you could've overpowered him..."

"I, uh...." Sam began awkwardly. "Well. I thought you cared about him. And I wasn't gonna hurt the man you adored. Didn't seem right."

She frowned, not speaking for a few moments. She sipped her drink, looking everywhere it seemed but him and there was a certain flush to her cheeks.

"Oh," she murmured.

"Then he hit you and...I dunno. Suddenly didn't matter," Sam continued. "He got the final punch though."

"He did?" She asked in confusion. "Last time I saw him he was barely recovering from the blow you gave him to the head."

"Well....I didn't want ya to leave. Dunno what I was thinking, maybe if I chased you down I could...." he began before he stopped himself. "Anyways. Clarke approached me as I came into the lobby. When I tried to move past him he blocked my way. Said it was better if I didn't try to go after you."

He chuckled mirthlessly.

"Said I'd done enough damage already. You didn't need me in your life," Sam continued. "Course I didn't listen. Tried to run after you anyways. Clarke took matters into his own hands....thwap."

He punched his hand.

"Whack to the head, took the journal and walked off with it," Sam finished.

"Asshole," [Y/N] snarled and Sam found himself smiling. "Really glad I dumped him now."

"Me too," Sam confessed, and she smiled a little. "So anyways, the treasure...."

"What would you have said to me?" She interrupted, and he looked at her questioningly. "If you had caught up to me, I mean."

Sam thought it over, pursing his lips before he sighed.

"Anything to make you stay, actually," Sam murmured.

"So more lies?" She asked gently, and he shrugged.

"I...I couldn't tell ya to be honest," Sam replied truthfully. "Don't tend to think before I speak."

"Really? Never noticed," she replied sarcastically, and Sam chuckled. "I'm...kinda glad you didn't."

"Why?" Sam asked with a frown.

"I wasn't in the best place back then. I don't think any of us were. Hell I'd probably have stayed if you asked," she replied. "Probably would have hopped back into your bed too."

Sam choked on his drink, coughing a little in surprise and she looked concerned.

"You okay?" She asked as he waved her off, nodding as he continued to cough.

"Yeah yeah just...." Sam began before he coughed again. "Don't spring those sorta things. You mighta killed me babe."

She shifted a little in her seat.

"Sorry," Sam apologized for the pet name. "Like I said, old habits."

"It's...not the worst thing ever," she replied gently.

Something bloomed in him at those words, a seed of a hope he didn't realize he'd been carrying around settling in his chest.

"So. The treasure?" She asked as she met his eyes.

"Like I said. Nothing there. Just a bunch of empty rooms and a few journals," Sam replied. "I got lucky. Didn't stake much on it but my pride. Lost some respect, but otherwise? Not too shabby."

"I'm guessing Clarke and Marie didn't have the same fate?" She asked.

"Forced to go working for some consulting firm in Germany, and her whole business collapsed," Sam replied in response to both questions. "Adam made good on his promise though. Gave the money to Clarke."

Sam took a sip of his beer.

"Not sure what he did with it though. Probably spent it on books."

"What's wrong with that?" She asked defensively, and he chuckled.

"Nothing. Just...I dunno. Not what I would have done."

"Spent it on alcohol and hookers?" She asked, and he almost retorted defensively when he saw a teasing smile on her features.

"You must have me confused with Victor," he replied with a grin.

She smiled at that, a warm thing and the warmth that had sparked in Sam's chest grew.

"So, no treasure. Guess the whole thing was a waste after all," she declared.

"Wouldn't say that," Sam replied. "Met you again. That seemed pretty decent."

She met his eyes and frowned, though her cheeks reddened.

"I'm not worth the same as some treasure though, am I?" She asked almost challengingly, and Sam shook his head.

"Nah," Sam replied. "You're worth more than that."

She looked skeptical.

"This is a long time coming, but I'm sorry. Genuinely. I screwed ya over in more than one way in all this and you never deserved that," Sam continued.

She frowned.

"Sully tell you to say that?"

"What? You don't think I'm capable of being regretful of my actions?" Sam asked with a chuckle, though she didn't laugh. "No. James did, actually. And Tim. And Sullivan. And Clarke. And Abbie."

Sam shook his head.

"Whole world was telling me to get my head outta my ass, so I of course ignored it," Sam continued. "But...and don't tell Sullivan this or it'll make his head swell like a balloon....they were right."

"About what?" She asked gently.

"You. I..." Sam began before he sighed, her eyebrows raising as her mouth parted a little. "It's gonna sound pathetic, but I looked for ya. For a bit. Didn't have a job, thought why not."

"Why?" She asked softly.

"Well, thought if I saw ya again...." Sam replied before he smiled a little. "You might get outta my head."

There was a certain look in her eyes and Sam felt spurred on to continue.

"Lotta dead ends. Gave up for a bit. Tagged along with Sullivan on a whim," Sam murmured. "Was genuinely surprised to find ya here."

"Me too," she murmured. "About you, I mean."

She sipped her drink.

"Bad or good?" He asked.

"Good. Mostly good," she replied. "Was kinda worried when I didn't hear anything about you. Got scared for a minute there you'd gotten yourself killed in some ditch."

"You were worried?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Well. Yeah," she replied with a shrug. "Friends worry about friends don't they?"

The blossom of hope wilted rapidly as she continued to speak.

"I mean, I worried about Abbie too. Knew last time she was left alone with Clarke she kinda...." she began before she sighed. "Thank God she's divorcing him now."

"Yeah, well, not finding a treasure has the potential to do that to a marriage," Sam declared with a small laugh, though a lump settled in his stomach.

"Must be a feeble marriage," she countered with a sigh. "Guess the 'through good times and bad' portion didn't really stick, did it?"

Sam smiled a little at that.

"Then again, I can't judge. I ran when things got awful," she murmured, no longer meeting his eyes.

"True," Sam replied. "But we didn't make that sort of promise to each other, did we?"

He downed the rest of his drink as she laughed to herself.

"Funny," she murmured. "Thought that was implied."

Their eyes met, and Sam smirked.

"Didn't realize we were married."

Her cheeks flushed, and Sam felt a flicker of hope again.

"Thought the same rules applied to friendships," she countered.

"You didn't mean it like that," Sam replied, leaning forward.

It was cocky and it was brash, and Sam felt his stomach twist when she didn't respond at first.

"No," she replied quietly. "No I didn't."

She downed the rest of her drink.

"[Y/N]....I missed ya," Sam began gently.

"We've had this conversation before," she interrupted, picking up her glass and his, walking back to the bar.

He watched her stand at the bar, leaning against it as she let out a long sigh.

He walked towards the bar, leaning against it as he looked down at her.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" Sam asked with a grin, and she chuckled weakly.

"You know, I actually thought I was doing well before you showed up," she murmured.

"Sorry," Sam replied as the bartender set down their drinks. He took a sip before he continued. "I...I do mean it, though. Missed ya like hell. Couldn't stop thinking about ya. Still can't."

She sipped her drink and sighed.

"Actually seeing ya again...well now I know it's only gonna get worse," Sam declared.

"You seem pretty confident about that," she retorted with a small smile.

Sam sipped his drink before he spoke.

"Nah. Just a hunch."

She shook her head at that, though there was a fondness there.

"I mean, if I can miss ya after the mess that was Les Chats, imagine how bad it'll be when we part on good terms..."

She laughed a little at that, and he grinned.

"So where are you headed after all this?" She asked, and he shrugged.

"Wherever the next contract takes me," Sam retorted.

"I don't miss that part of working for Marie," she confessed with a smile. "I like my stability."

"I know. You want the picket fence and the nice house, not the mosquito mesh and canvas tent riddled with bullet holes," Sam countered.

She smiled to herself.

"That seems impractical."

"Ah, but good for ventilation."

She shook her head fondly at that, nudging him with her shoulder before she rested her head against his arm.

"I'll be sure to send you some duct tape," she murmured, and he smiled.

He looked at them in the mirror hanging over the bar, for a moment seeing something he slowly realized he wanted.

He almost wished it had been a quick jolt, a moment of perfect clarity.

Except that would require him being unaware of it in the first place.

He had always cared about her, from that moment the bullet hit her shoulder and Abbie had been concerned she wouldn't make it through.

He needed her in all the ways he didn't want to burden her with, to keep him sane while trudging through history books and old letters.

He...he kinda adored every inch of that lovely mind and lovelier frame, more than he ever deserved to call his own and of which he'd caught a glimpse only to want more.

Oh Christ, he was smitten.

She rubbed his arm, her touch sending warmth throughout him before she leaned back.

"Thanks. For this. Maybe when you get back from your adventure we can do it again," she declared with a small smile. She checked the time and swore. "Shit. I actually gotta go."

She went to gather her things when Sam clasped her arm.

"I wanna start over," Sam blurted, and she looked at him questioningly. "Pretend you don't know I'm an ass and I'll pretend that you're not...Christ, you. Perfect you, kind and intelligent and who deserves more than a petty thief like me for a...a friend."

She met his eyes.

"I know it's a lot to ask, especially after everything that's happened," Sam continued. "But I don't think I wanna life where you're not in it somehow. Friend or something else."

She pried his hand away from her arm, slipping on her coat before she walked out the door.

After a few minutes he realized she wasn't coming back, and his shoulders slumped.

It was...fair. He didn't deserve a third chance, especially not after screwing up the first and second.

He wouldn't have given himself anything if he was her.

He finished off his drink, sighing before he slipped on his jacket.

He walked out onto the pavement, lighting a cigarette before he expelled the smoke.

He wondered what the hell he was going to tell Sullivan. The man would probably be blunt and tell him that he didn't deserve any chances from her anyways.

Sam had let a good woman slip away, and he knew it would probably haunt him.

"Hope you know if I get another bullet wound because of you this is over," a familiar voice declared and he grinned.

"Seems fair," he declared as he looked down at [Y/N]. "Any other terms?"

"We'll figure them out as we go," she replied, tucking her hands in her pockets.

"So...start off as friends then?" He asked, sticking out his hand to her.

She looked down at it, clasping his hand. She tugged him forward, pulling his mouth down to meet hers.

She tasted like cider and something intoxicatingly sweet, releasing him with a smirk.

"We were never friends," she declared. "But I suppose we can start anew there..."

Sam licked his lips, nodding dumbly and she chuckled.

"Alright then new friend...what's first?"

"You kiss me again?" Sam asked hopefully, and she chuckled.

"How about I help you research your latest client?"

"That's...good too I guess," he declared, and she grinned.

"Then lead the way, Mr. Drake."

Sam shook his head.

"Oh no. This is all you," Sam insisted, and she laughed.

He couldn't help but feel a tenderness swell inside him as he followed her inside.

The hopeful seed of something more blossomed fully when she looked back at him and grinned.

"So...tell me more about this client of yours..."


End file.
